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The Flower of the Flock 

AND 

THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


BY 



MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN. 

II 


NOV 28 'S3'. 

.Of WASH' 




NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO : 

BENZIGER BROTHERS, 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See, 

1895. 




Copyright, 1894, by Benziger Brothers. 


MISS MAY CRONYN, 

OF BUFFALO, 

“THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK.” 


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The author gratefully acknowledges that the 
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him to put these stories into a book and to 
offer it to all boys and girls with the compli- 
ments of all seasons. 



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CONTENTS. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

CHAPTER page 

I. — The Fatal Snowball, . . . . . ii 

11 . — The Fatal Dutch Cake, . . . .19 

III. — The Terrors of the Night 26 

IV. — The Dangers of the Street, . . . .30 

V. — In the “Neck,” 36 

VI. — Caesar and his Mistress, 43 

VII.— The “Jersey Blue,” 50 

VIII.— The Bound Girl, 57 

IX.— Molly 64 

X. — The Feelings of an Aunt, . . . .71 

XI. — A Scene by the Fireside, . . . .77 

XII.— The Tea Party 81 

XIII. — Molly Learns Something, . . . .85 

XIV. — The Figure in the Moonlight, . . .91 

XV. — Caesar Again, 94 

XVI. — At Mass 98 

XVII. — A Battle, 105 

XVIIL— The Wood iii 

XIX.— Flight 118 

XX.— The End 125 

7 


8 


CONTENTS. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — A Sad Day, ....... 135 

II. — The Little Mother 146 

III. — The Ghost 161 

IV. — Cyrus, 167 

V. — A Temptation, 177 

VI. — Good-by, 181 

VII.— -Cyrus Meets the Badgers, .... 184 

VIII. — The New Home 187 

IX. — Clara, ........ 190 

X. — The Young Reformer 194 

XI. — Experience Teaches, ..... 198 
XH. — Who Comes ’Round my House To-night? . 203 

XIII. — The Wolf at the Door, 215 

XIV. — By the Fire, ....... 221 

XV. — The Squire 225 

XVI. — Clara Makes an Announcement, . , . 232 

XVIL— A Plan 238 

XVlil. — Around the Fire, ...... 245 

XIX. — Before the Race, 252 

XX. — The Race 258 

XXL— “Out You Go,” 269 

XXIL— The End 275 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 







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THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE FA TAL SNOWBALL. 

T he brothers — there were three — were away. 

Jack was at sea — how queer it is that Jacks 
seem especially fond of the sea! — Samuel was in busi- 
ness in Chicago ; and Arnold was giving singing les- 
sons in Portland, Maine. 

Reginald was the youngest, and the flower of the 
flock. His aunt often said that he was a “perfectly 
lovely boy.” He was fifteen years of age; he had 
glossy black hair, which he combed down into a 
bang on his forehead ; black eyes, a rather pale face, 
a straight nose, and he always wore his cap back on 
his head to show his bang. He never put his hands 
in his pockets; he never had, even when a small boy, 
a nail, or a lump of string, or a piece of shoemaker’s 
wax, or a pi^e of candy, or even a dead mouse 
in his pockets. He had always a clean face; and, 
after school every day, he took his best trousers out 
into the kitchen and ironed the legs of them with his 
own hands, so that they would not bag at the knees. 
He changed his clothes after school, and put on old 
things, on which, however, there was never a spot. 
He never played games in the street, because that 


12 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


was “rough”; and when old ladies came to visit his 
aunt and to drink tea and gossip, he was always per- 
mitted to sit with them; and sometimes they listened 
to his remarks about people, and said what a lovely 
boy he was, and how different he was from his 
brothers, who had all been noisy. 

Reginald was an orphan; he had a little money of 
his own, as his other brothers had refused to touch 
the small estate his father had left. He often spoke 
at school of his “ money,” and pitied those poor boys 
who had nothing at all, and who never could buy as 
many agates as they liked. Once he had been seen 
riding in an open carriage from a funeral, — in the kind 
of an open carriage called a “ barouche.” Boys in 
Philadelphia often went to funerals. In fact, it was 
looked on as a reward of merit ; but few ever rode in 
a barouche. After this Reginald was looked on with 
awe and other feelings. But I hope that will try 
to love him; for we must remember that even if a 
boy of fifteen wears a bang and irons out the legs of 
his trousers every day, he is still a human being, and 
worthy of all the esteem we can give him. 

Mrs. Danby, Reginald’s aunt, kept a shop. Shops 
have gone out of fashion, but when Reginald was 
fifteen there were many of them in the straight streets 
of Philadelphia. There were jars of peppermint 
candy — big, plaited sticks, with enough flavor in 
them to scent a large house; jars of lemon drops, 
jars of clove drops, and several gingerbread men and 
horses, with dots of pink and white sugar on them. 

On one side of the little frame house, whose thresh- 
old was level with the street, was a coal-box painted 
green. It was large enough to serve — if it were 
needed — as a home for four or five of the largest 


THE ELOIFEE OF THE FLOCK. 


13 


Newfoundland dogs one can think of. It was filled 
with coal every day, and Mrs. Danby sold it by the 
bucket. On the counter there were tin pans filled 
with molasses candy, brown and yellow, and clear 
yellow and red candy “toys.” On the shelves be- 
hind the counters there were jars of buttons, and 
tobacco, and starch, and stick cinnamon, and cough 
drops, and pepper; and there were ‘also canisters of 
tea and coffee. If you wanted onions, you could 
have them for so much a string. But if you had 
asked for cabbages or turnips, Mrs. Danby would 
have thought you were mad. 

At New Year’s she always bought a cake, with a 
Grecian temple upon it, and a wreath of silver leaves 
around it. In this Grecian temple there always stood 
a young lady, made of white sugar, holding a silver 
rose. Slices of this cake were given to Mrs. Danby’s 
best customers; and if you were especially agreeable 
to her, she would ask you into the back room, and 
let you sit on her haircloth sofa and have a glass of 
currant wine. The wine was hard to take; but if 
you were a boy of fine feelings, you would consider 
it a great honor, and hope that she would give you 
another piece of cake. And, besides, if you were 
quick, you could perhaps give Reginald a little kick 
— not enough to hurt him, you know — as you went 
out. Of course, then, Reginald always told on you, 
and you were never asked to have cake again. 
During the rest of the year the Grecian temple and 
the white-sugar lady stood under a glass case in Mrs. 
Danby’s best bedroom upstairs, where there was a 
mahogany bed, with a blue canopy over it and a 
“ valance ” about it. 

Reginald often made remarks about the hidden 


14 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FI^OCK. 


splendors of his aunt’s house, and once he even said 
that he had an uncle who was a policeman; but, 
though it was understood that Mrs. Danby could 
afford to give away ten cents’ worth of taffy and not 
feel it at all, this last touch of grandeur was not be- 
lieved. It was too much, and it was soon discovered 
that Reginald told fibs. And it was found out in this 
way. Reginald never threw snowballs, because he 
was afraid. Now, would a boy whose uncle was “ on 
the police” be afraid? In this manner Reginald was 
found out; for everybody knew that if you had a 
friend “on the force” you would never be a slave to 
fear. 

The truth is, that if Reginald had not occasionally 
brought gum drops or a chunk of “ no go ” to school, 
he would not have been treated with any regard at 
all, after the fiction about the uncle was sifted. 
Nearly all the boys Reginald knew were honest, if 
they were “rough ”; they knew it was wrong to tell 
lies, but it seemed to them that Reginald ought to 
go to jail for telling an untruth on such an impor- 
tant subject. Still, when a boy at your school lives 
in a candy shop, it is very hard to look at his faults 
impartially, — very, very hard. And, then, if you 
did anything to Reginald, he always told; so that 
Mrs. Danby would give you a very small cent’s worth 
of lemon taffy, and perhaps refuse to “ make ” a 
cent’s worth of cream cocoanut — a soft, white, sticky 
compound that happily went out after the war. 

On the whole, Reginald got on very well until 
Miles McGarry came to live at Mrs. Danby’s. Miles’ 
parents were dead, and he, like Reginald Danby, fell 
to his aunt’s charge. From the moment Miles en- 
tered the house trouble came. Miles was not 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


15 


“ lovely ” like Reginald. He wore his trousers 
turned up; he sometimes ran into the street to 
“catch on” to a wagon, in a red flannel shirt and 
one suspender; his hair was stubborn, and refused 
to be combed, except on Sunday, when Mrs. Danby 
soaked it with castor-oil and bergamot. Then it 
shone; but then,- too, Mrs. Danby made him wear 
her sunbonnet in the house, for fear that his greasy 
head should touch the yellow and blue wall-paper in 
her back room. It was not pleasant to have to steal 
about in the back room between Mass and the Cate- 
chism class, with a blue-and-white checked sunbonnet 
flapping about, and to be permitted to take it off 
only at dinner. And it was not pleasant to have 
Reginald sitting straight or lounging about, free to 
do as he pleased, and putting on airs. • Miles was 
two years younger than his cousin, and Reginald 
lectured him and bossed him, and told him how very 
wicked it was to eat raw turnips, to go down to the 
Neck, and to carry various things about in his pockets. 

Miles was a short boy, with the brightest blue eyes 
in the world, plenty of freckles, and with two chubby 
hands, with two large warts on the thumb of each. 
Mrs. Danby and the old ladies did not ask him in to 
tea. He was not the kind of boy to ornament a tea 
party. In truth, the only time he was admitted he 
pulled the cat’s tail and caused her to upset the tea- 
pot. Reginald did not like him; for he yelled out 
loud and laughed at him, and he would not wait on 
him; and instead of asking Mrs. Danb)’, he put his 
hand into the gum-drop jar and helped himself. 
This caused Mrs. Danby to lock the gum drops in 
the little glass case, and so Reginald’s supply of his 
favorite ceased. 


1 6 THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 

What Miles McGarry hated most of all was 
the necessity of coming home the moment school 
was out. There was always a stone fight going on 
somewhere, or one was certain of seeing a boy “ ar- 
rested,” or the hook-and-ladder company was out; 
but Reginald always hurried home to iron out his 
trousers, to have his aunt say what a good boy he 
was, and to hear her declare that Miles would live to 
be hanged. All this was galling to the smaller boy, 
who could not see why he should be hanged because 
his clothes would not stay clean. Still, he bore no 
ill-will to Reginald. He once heard his aunt speak 
of some unfortunate person as “ afflicted. ” Heap- 
plied the word to Reginald and pitied him. 

There was a boy at school whose father kept a 
shoe shop, and this boy did not admire Reginald, be- 
cause Reginald had seen him throwing spitballs at 
the ceiling, and made some gentle remarks about it 
to the teacher, who, however, had observed Johnny 
Schonbrun’s actions already. Perhaps Johnny Schon- 
brun might have learned to love Reginald in spite of 
this — Mrs. Danby said that everybody loved him — if 
the sweet boy had not refused to give Johnny a bite 
from a big apple he had brought to school one day. 

Johnny lived opposite a baker shop, in the window 
of which round, glazed cakes studded with currants, 
known as Dutch cakes, and twisted loaves of bread 
were displayed, at Christmas-time and New Year’s, 
with one or two iced pound-cakes suggestive of great 
wealth and luxury, surrounded by garlands of ever- 
greens. The baker’s name was Hans Gewitz, and 
he might be seen almost any evening with his head 
peeping just above his cellar door. He always wore 
a white cap, his nose was generally covered with 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 17 

flour, and he seldom spoke. Far into the night and 
early morning his oven blazed away; and his bread, 
especially his milk loaves, Avere greatly in demand. 
He was known among the boys as “ flour nose.” 
Sometimes Johnny Schonbrun put his head within 
the baker’s cellar door and reminded him of the fact. 
This occasioned a coolness between Johnny and the 
baker. 

Miles McGarry and Johnny were devoted friends. 
They had much in common. Together they 
hunted muskrats down “ in the banks ” when rare 
opportunities occurred. Together they caught frogs 
and threw stones at reed-birds in that part of the 
suburbs called the Neck. Together they chased 
cats; together they tied strings to door-bells on Hal- 
low Eve, and led the guileless walker to tangle him- 
self in these strings, and to alarm the people. 

But they were not together very often. Mrs. 
Danby ruled Miles McGarry with a rod of iron. 
On certain evenings, when the old ladies came to 
tea, Reginald, of course, was not permitted to “ mind 
the shop.” He had toast and tea and “smear-case” 
— which the vulgar modern calls cottage cheese — in 
the chosen circle; while Miles was made to sit on a 
high stool behind the counter, by the light of a 
smoky lamp, and wait for customers. The worst of 
it was that whenever the door opened, a harsh bell 
rang, and it was hard for him to sneak out for a 
breath of fresh air with the warning of that bell in 
danger of being heard. 

One night — a fatal night — the snow was on the 
ground, trodden hard in the middle of the sidewalk, 
but deep and soft on either side. Miles heard the 
delightful crunch of people walking on it, of boys’ 
2 


1 8 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

sleds gliding over it, — even of a ringing skate as 
Johnny Schonbrun passed, balancing himself, like a 
stork, on one leg. Then followed a peculiarly shrill 
whistle. Miles knew it well. It meant that Johnny 
would like to see him. He crept toward the door 
and moved it. The bell tinkled. 

“ Miles! ” cried his aunt’s voice. 

“ Yes’m!” 

“ Is there a customer in the shop? ” 

“N’op’m!” 

“I thought I heard the bell.” 

Then Miles crept through the crack and was out 
under the sky, with the river wind blowing in his 
face. The lights of the butcher shop opposite (the 
beef and mutton and turkeys were wreathed with 
evergreen, for it was near Christmas) looked joyful 
and gay. Everything seemed to invite a boy with 
legs to use them. The big stool had cramped Miles; 
he had sat still in school nearly all day, and now he 
was free. There was a great turkey hanging in the 
shop for show, not for sale; and Mrs. Danby had 
made a large keg of mince-meat. The knowledge 
of all this filled Miles with delicious gayety. He 
uttered a wild yawp. It sounded like this: “Yea! 
yea! yea! ” 

It was the war-cry of the small boys of-his time. 
Then he knocked the hat off a boy who had his back 
to him, kicked over the nearest ash-barrel, and 
started for a run around the square. Johnny Schon- 
brun was ahead, near his own house, limping and 
gliding alternately on his one skate. Miles picked 
up a handful of snow, which was rather wet, — just 
in condition to be made into the hardest kind of 
snowball, called a “soaker.” He let it fly. It flew. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


19 


There was a crash of glass. It had flown through the 
baker’s window, and lay among the fragments of one 
of those beautiful Grecian temples which Reginald 
spoke of with awe, and which Miles himself had 
learned to reverence! He fled like a bird, not too 
late to see the white-capped baker dart from his 
cellar and seize Johnny Schonbrun. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FATAL DUTCH CAKE. 

R eginald in the mean time had sat at the tea- 
table, very demurely joining in the conversa- 
tion of the old ladies. They spoke of the wickedness 
of boys in general; and he told them stories of the 
horrors of which boys were capable, and did not 
hesitate to assert that Miles McGarry was capable of 
almost anything. 

The night was frosty, and the old ladies had had a 
long walk, and so the piles of buttered toast quickly 
disappeared. Reginald had the warmest seat, near 
the stove ; but this did not interfere with his appetite. 
Mrs. Danby, in the glow of her hospitality, suggested 
that perhaps some fresh Dutch cake might be “ nice.” 
And thereupon Reginald volunteered at once to pro- 
cure the delicacy, which was a slightly sweetened 
bread, more or less permeated with currants. The 
old ladies took extra cups of tea, and admired 
Reginald. 

“ To think of his being so ready to go out on such 
a cold night just to please us!” they said; while 
Mrs. Danby tied his comforter carefully around his 


20 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


neck and hoped he would not catch cold. Reginald 
smacked his lips over the thought of the Dutch cake, 
and wondered whether the baker might not give him 
some lemon drops, as it was about Christmas-time, 
and hurried off. He ran through the shop, never 
deigning to notice whether Miles was there or 
not. 

It happened that just as the baker seized Johnny 
Schonbrun, Reginald reached the shop. Johnny’s 
howls naturally attracted his attention, and indeed 
Johnny seemed to have reason to howl; for nothing 
can be more difficult than to stand upright on one 
skate when a stalwart hand threatens to choke the 
breath out of your body. 

Reginald saw the broken window, and a thrill of 
horror ran through him. Who had been so wicked 
as to do this thing, — to expose the beautiful Grecian 
temple, the spotless icing, and the brown Dutch 
cakes to the cold night air? What a new tale of 
terrible depravity he would have to relate to the old 
ladies when he should reach home! 

He stood still, divided between the wreck of the 
baker’s window and the echoing howls of Johnny 
Schonbrun. He believed that Johnny Schonbrun 
was a wicked boy, for Johnny often made faces at 
him across the school-room; and he was only too 
ready to believe that he was the villain who had 
worked this deadly ruin. 

He now heard words that froze his blood. 

“Who broke my window?’’ demanded the baker. 

“ I won’t tell! ’’ 

The baker gave Johnny a series of cuffs, each of 
which left a floury mark on the right side of his face. 

“It was the Danby boy!’’ cried Johnny at last, 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


21 


unable to stand the struggle, which was dislocating 
his neck and spraining his ankle. To do him jus- 
tice, he always thought of Miles McGarry as one of 
the Danby boys; he had no intention whatever of 
implicating Reginald. 

These were the words that froze Reginald’s blood. 
Here was total depravity indeed. But he did not 
forget the Dutch cake; he put his hand through the 
broken pane, took one of the cakes, left ten cents in 
its place — for he was a strictly honest boy, — and fled 
homeward. 

The ladies at the tea-table were alarmed at his 
agitation, especially as one of them was in the act of 
reciting the details of some horrible occurrence 
which had taken place when General Howe’s troops 
occupied Philadelphia. 

“Dear me!” said Mrs. Danby. “You’d think the 
child had seen the headless horseman ! Why, what’s 
the matter ? ” 

Before Reginald could make a reply, a loud voice 
was heard in the shop, and Miles answering it. 

“Your brother broke my window, and he has 
spoiled ten dollars’ worth of cake. You will have to 
pay! ” exclaimed the baker, addressing Miles, who sat 
on his high stool, under the smoky lamp, with a tat- 
tered copy of “ The Seven Champions of Christen- 
dom,” held upside down in a trembling hand; his 
heart was like a lump of ice. 

“I have no brother,” said Miles. 

Hereupon the baker called out loud that Miles was 
a “ story-teller — a liar.” 

Upon this Mrs. Danby entered the shop in her 
most dignified manner. 

“ Did I hear a conversation ? ” she asked, as if the 


22 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

baker’s voice had not already attracted a crowd in 
front of the door, 

“ Your son broke my window, and I must be paid 
ten dollars, ma’am,” said the baker, red with anger. 

Mrs. Danby smiled, and said kindly, as if speak- 
ing to a person who had lost his senses: 

“ Poor, dear man! I have no son here.” 

Upon this, words seemed to coagulate in the 
baker’s throat. Mrs, Danby was afraid that he 
would have apoplexy. She waited until his roarings 
seemed done, and then she asked: 

“ Are you quite sober, good man ? ” 

This capped the climax. The baker became 
frantic. 

“ I — I broke the window, ” said Miles, feeling that 
if he did not confess he might be responsible for the 
man’s death. 

The baker only shook his fist at Miles, and called 
him “a mocker” in German. Mrs, Danby looked at 
her younger nephew reproachfully. 

“ Have all my lessons about truthfulness been 
thrown away?” she asked. “You are heartless, 
Milesius, to make fun of this poor intoxicated 
man.” 

Miles dropped his eyes on “ The Seven Champions 
of Christendom.” After all, he thought, how wrong 
it was to contradict one’s elders! They ought to 
know. 

“You have another boy in the place? You have, 

■ — you have!” 

“Come forth, Reginald,” said Mrs. Danby, ele- 
gantly. “I have another boy, also my nephew; and 
one,” she added, with a reproachful glance at Miles, 
“incapable of falsehood.” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 23 

Reginald reluctantly came out of the back room. 
The baker pounced on him. 

“ This is the one, — this is the wicked one that broke 
my window! Ah, here he is! I have him at last. 
It was the big Danby boy. I saw him myself, — I saw 
him running. And he had a Dutch cake under his 
arm.” 

“ Oh, no, indeed ! ” cried Miles, earnestly. “ I 
broke your window, but I did not steal a Dutch 
cake.” 

The baker took no notice of him. 

“ Didn’t you run home with a Dutch cake?” 

“ Yes, yes! ” gasped Reginald. “ But you are soil- 
ing my collar, good man. You are indeed! And 
aunt expects me to keep it clean until Sunday.” 

The baker did not respond to this appeal. He 
shook Reginald as he had shaken Johnny Schonbrun. 

“ I did not break your window! ” exclaimed Regi- 
nald, choking. 

“ I have a witness already,” said the baker. “ You 
must pay, and I will put you into jail besides for 
stealing the Dutch cake.” 

” Mr. — man,” said Mrs. Danby, with great dignity, 
“ cease this treatment of my nephew, or I shall be 
obliged to call the police.” 

“/will call the police! ” exclaimed the baker, out 
of breath. “You have my Dutch cake in the house. 
I will have you all arrested.” 

“ I paid for the cake. I took it out of the win- 
dow, and put a ten-cent piece in its place, — indeed I 
did.” 

The baker laughed a hollow laugh. 

“Reginald is incapable of falsehood,” said Mrs. 
Danby, putting herself between her injured nephew 


24 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCLC. 

and the infuriated baker; “and I beg you to retire 
from my shop until you are sober — quite sober.” 

The baker gasped ; perspiration made tracks down 
his floury face. “Do I wake or sleep?” he seemed 
to say. He bounded toward Reginald, but Mrs. 
Danby was too quick. She pushed the boy into the 
back room, and locked the door. 

“Come to-morrow and talk it over,” she said, 
“when your head is clear, my good man.” 

“You may take me to jail, if you like,” ventured 
Miles in a weak voice; “but I didn’t steal your 
cake.” 

The baker shook his fist at him, and left the shop, 
swearing vengeance on all the Danbys. 

“You may go to bed now, Milesius,” said his aunt 
severely; “and to-morrow at breakfast you may par- 
take of bread and water as a punishment for your 
persistent falsehood.” 

Miles opened his lips to speak; but he was pre- 
vented by a loud ring at the door. Hans Gewitz 
thrust his head into the shop again. 

“I will come to-morrow,” he said, in a voice that 
struck terror into the heart of Reginald, “ and I will 
take your big boy to jail — to Moyamensing, — that I 
will do.” 

He shook his fist at Reginald once more and 
retired. 

Mrs. Danby was in a state of towering indignation. 
She was not at all frightened by the threats of the 
baker. Miles was called into the back room and 
cross-examined by the old ladies and his aunt. He 
persisted in his statement that he had broken the 
window, and at last one of the old ladies suddenly 
discovered that he was a hero. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 2 $ 

“ He is taking the blame on himself to shield dear 
Reginald,” she remarked. 

Miles opened his eyes at this. It was a new view 
of the matter, 

“ I can imagine any sacrifice made for dear Regi- 
nald,” Mrs, Danby said; “but if Miles is making 
any such sacrifice, he is, nevertheless, telling a false- 
hood; and I despise all falsehoods, A lie, even to 
save Reginald, would not be justifiable,” 

In vain Miles protested that he had broken the 
window ; in vain he admitted that he had run around 
the square “just for fun,” Nobody believed, and 
he was sent to bed in disgrace, to refiect on the dis- 
advantages of having a bad reputation. 

Miles slept in the attic, in a little iron bedstead. 
He could see stars through the dormer-window. At 
times the snow came in through the cracks, and the 
wind was such an old friend that Miles was not at all 
offended when tricks were played with his hair and 
cold slaps made at his face. 

He said his prayers, and then reflected that Regi- 
nald would have a hard time in jail. He was sure 
that the baker would carry out his threat. He 
thought for a moment how pleasant it would be to 
see Reginald in a real scrape; but then, like the 
good-hearted boy he was, he remembered that he 
was a Christian, and said a fervent prayer that Regi- 
nald might come out “all right,” 

He had been asleep only a little whil£ when a 
sound near his ear made him start. 


26 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE TERRORS OF THE NIGHT. 

R emorse and repentance kept Miles awake; fear 
and terrible forebodings disturbed Reginald. 
Miles went over in his mind the scene in front of 
Hans Gewitz’s window. Why had he thrown such a 
hard snowball ? Why had he not stayed in the shop 
and resisted that temptation to take the run around 
the square? He saw Reginald in jail — perhaps for 
life. For an instant a cruel feeling of pleasure ran 
through his mind at the thought of the good, the 
highly praised Reginald locked within those gates, 
which it was often predicted would one day open for 
himself ; but he rejected the thought as from the 
devil. At this moment he freely forgave Reginald 
all the taunts, all the sneers, he had uttered, yes, he 
even determined not to remember that Reginald 
ironed his trousers every afternoon and wore a 
“ bang.” * 

Reginald said his prayers and made a hundred 
good resolutions. If he could only get out of this 
horrible scrape — worse, he believed, than had ever 
befallen any other boy, — he would never tell a lie or 
be bad again. He turned on one side and then on 
the other, groaned, moaned, and wept. He hoped 
that the night would be very long. As long as it 
was dark, he knew that he was safe; but in the 

* A critic in Philadelphia informs me that no bangs were 
worn in the late sixties; but that the young “ dude ” plastered a 
half-circle of hair on his forehead, and that the boys called it a 
“waterfall.” This was what Reginald wore. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 2^ 

morning would come the terrible baker, the police- 
man, and Moyamensing! 

He shuddered and covered his head with the bed- 
clothes. He had once been taken by his aunt for a 
visit to the jail. He had seen little black cars in 
which hard biscuits and soup were sent to the prison- 
ers. And one prisoner, who grinned amiably at him 
through the iron bars, had sold him a drawing of 
Shakespeare for a quarter. It was down-stairs on 
Mrs. Danby’s mantelpiece. And where was the 
prisoner now? Perhaps the rats had eaten him; per- 
haps he had been hanged. 

New horrors rose before Reginald. If he could 
be accused and taken to jail for breaking a pane of 
glass which he had not even touched, why could they 
not accuse him of murdering somebody he had never 
seen? The old ladies had whispered at Mrs. Danby’s 
tea-table that the doctors sometimes wanted dead 
bodies, and that they were not at all particular how 
they got them. Suppose they should want his, after 
he were hanged for something he did not do ? There 
would be no stopping them. 

He thought of one of those gloomy stories in which 
the old ladies delighted, — the story of the maid and 
the magpie. And how the maid — she wore a frilled 
cap in the picture — had been hanged or burned in 
some old German city for stealing silver spoons 
which a magpie had hidden. Horrors piled on hor- 
rors in his mind, his tears wet his pillow. And they 
were all for himself ; he never once thought of Mrs. 
Danby’s anguish in case one-tenth of the disasters 
he imagined should come true. He was sure Miles 
had done the deed which had brought this misfortune 
on him, — sure. And to think that he was considered 


28 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


to be wicked; and Miles, against whom every hand 
was raised, exonerated from all blame! He groaned 
aloud. Miles heard him, and could endure it no 
longer; for Miles was very soft-hearted. He took 
a resolution and dressed himself. 

Reginald was dozing, dreaming that the baker was 
seated on a mound of spectral Dutch cakes, and 
waving a great wooden shovel in the air — when he 
was suddenly awakened. It was morning, and the 
officers of the law were on his track. No! It was a 
relief to find that there was no light yet, and that 
Miles was at his elbow. 

“Hush!” Miles whispered. “ Put on your clothes; 
we must away.” 

Miles had read several novels, and “ away ” struck 
him as sweetly appropriate to the situation. 

“We must — what?” asked Reginald, glad to be 
aroused from his thoughts and dreams. 

“ We must travel ; we must not stay here, you 
know.” 

“Why?” asked Reginald; then remembrance fell 
on his heart like a lump of lead. “Oh, yes! But 
where ? ” 

“I have got you into this scrape, Reginald,” said 
Miles seriously, “ and I must get you out of it. I 
broke old Gewitz’s window, but I didn’t intend to do 
it; and, if he’d let me, I’d go to jail in your place. 
As it is, I can only help you to get away — and go 
with you.” 

“ Go away ? ” repeated Reginald. “ Go away ? 
From the shop ? From Aunt Danby ? From school ? 
From ” 

“Toast and tea, and the old ladies, and the hot 
irons ” 


THE FLOWER OF TILE FLOCA'. 


29 


“Oh, I can’t!” said Reginald ; “I can’t! It’s too 
nice here. I’ve always lived here ; I always expected 
to live here. Who will knit my woollen stockings in 
the winter, or give me hot gruel and raisins when I 
am sick ? ” 

“Oh, there’s a man in the jail,” began Miles, 
“who takes very good care of all the prisoners.” 

“ I can’t go to jail — I won't go to jail ! ” exclaimed 
Reginald, sitting up in his iron bed and wringing his 
hands. “You ought to go and swear that you broke 
the window. You wouldn’t mind being in jail so 
much, because you’ve never been used to the care 
I’ve had. And auntie wouldn’t mind it so much, be- 
cause you haven’t been brought up like me. It’s never 
been in you to suffer so much as I’ve suffered; I’m 
delicate, you know.” And Reginald tried to cough. 

Miles said nothing; he was used to this. He 
knew that his aunt would break her heart if Regi- 
nald should be sent to prison. He was grateful to 
his aunt; she had been kind to, him in her way, and 
any kindness could never be forgotten by him. He 
had never learned to like Reginald; but he had come 
to the conclusion that he must sacrifice himself for 
Reginald’s sake. He loved the old shop, the old 
neighborhood, all the associations; but he felt that 
he must give them up to save his aunt from pain and 
Reginald from disgrace. 

He could work, and Reginald would have to learn 
to work. And by and by, when the broken window 
and the Dutch cake had been forgotten, they would 
return with pockets full of money, and surprise Aunt 
Danby. 

“ Dress yourself,” said Miles, “and make a bundle 
of your other clothes. Have you any money ? ” 


3 ° 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


“Two and a half,” said Reginald. “I intended 
to buy an accordion. I can’t get my things ready 
now, for my blue-handled tooth-brush is in aunt’s 
room.” 

“You’ll not need a tooth-brush where we’re go- 
ing,” replied Miles. 

“I’d rather go to jail,” said Reginald, crying. 
“ Oh, why did this happen ?” 

“Get ready!” muttered Miles. “The dawn will 
break anon.” 

“Anon” sounded horrible to Reginald; it was a 
sweet morsel to his cousin. 

“And can’t I say good-by to aunt?” 

“Spare her the anguish of parting,” said Miles. 
“ Besides, she’d stop us, and then be sorry for it 
when you were past help in jail. Come, we’ll write 
to her from the vast forests.” 

Reginald, weeping silently, dressed himself, and 
made a careful packet of his best clothes. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE DANGERS OF THE STREET. 

T he sufferings of Reginald were genuine; Miles 
could not understand them. The shop was not 
so dear to him. Though he liked the sound of the 
clashing bell, he hated to be a prisoner behind the 
counter and to wait for customers. But to Reginald 
it was the whole world. He loved the shop — loved 
the sights and sounds of the street in which the shop 
stood. All the details of Mrs. Danby’s housekeep- 
ing were familiar to him. He wondered, as he went 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


3 ’ 


to the door on tiptoe, whether there would be stewed 
prunes for supper when he would be far away; he 
wondered who would feed the cat; and tears came 
into his eyes as he thought of the sadness of the old 
ladies when they should come to tea and find nobody 
to make toast for them. 

He heard an early wagon rolling over the frosty 
stones, and shuddered; it made him think of the cold 
and darkness without. A thin gray streak in the 
east showed the coming dawn. Miles pointed to it; 
he was full of delightful excitement. The prospect 
of a change pleased him, and he was not afraid of 
the darkness or the cold. And then, besides, there 
was the feeling that he was keeping Reginald out of 
jail ; and what pleasure it was to order that amiable 
boy about! Miles made all possible use of his 
power. He rumpled one of Reginald’s collars on 
the pretence of putting it into his bundle. 

“I can’t stand that! ” Reginald said, smoothing it 
out. “ If that’s the way you are going to treat my 
things, I shall stay home and go to jail.” 

Miles was alarmed. “You can’t expect to keep 
your clothes just like waxwork out in the wilderness,” 
he responded; “and you may as well begin by not 
being so particular now.” 

“ I will always be particular, no matter where I 
am; and it’s no use talking.” 

Miles looked at him with dissatisfaction. How 
different Reginald was from the companions the boys 
in the books always had! But he would have to 
make the best of it. He had already written, by the 
light of half a candle, a full account of how the win- 
dow came to be broken. It was written on the 
coarse brown paper used in the shop; but Reginald, 


32 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


in spite of all protests, insisted on writing his good- 
by on a clean sheet of letter paper. He could not 
write much — his tears fell too quickly. Miles 
watched him, disgust on every feature. 

“Don’t you see the light is coming? The police 
will be after us soon if we don’t get away.’’ 

Reginald had written on the paper only these 
words ; 

Good-by, aunt. I am going with Miles, to keep out of 
Moyamensing Prison. Don’t forget to feed the cat. I did not 
break the window. 

“ As if the boy needed to tell me that ! ’’ Mrs. Danby 
said, with a sob, when she read the note next day. 

Reginald suddenly threw himself on his knees be- 
side the bed and buried his head in the quilt. “ I 
can’t go,’’ he said; “I can’t go! I can’t!’’ 

Miles took him roughly by the shoulder, “ Up! ’’ 
he said (people often said “Up!” in the novels he 
had been reading). “ Up! ” 

Reginald arose, with a long-drawn sigh. The two 
boys went out into the cold morning air. It cut like 
a knife, as it blew steadily from the Delaware. 

The moment they reached the street. Miles’ spirits 
went up. He had felt a sinking of the heart for an 
instant, but it was gone. He stepped gayly upon the 
hard snow, while Reginald slowly followed him. 
None of the shops was open ; there was a ragpicker 
looking for bones in the gutter. A pile of Christmas 
trees at the corner of a street, where they had been 
placed by a countryman eager to catch early cus- 
tomers, added more weight to Reginald’s woe. 
Christmas would come; the boys would sing the 
“ Adeste Fideles ” in church ; the candles would blaze 
at the five o’clock Mass; the white-sugar lady under 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


33 


the glass case would be brought down and stand in 
glory on the frosted cake adorned with little silver 
leaves; the customers would talk of the weight of 
turkeys — and he would not be there! 

It suddenly occurred to Miles that he had not the 
slightest notion of the road that led to the vast wil- 
derness he had been talking about. It was his opin- 
ion that it might be reached by means of a canal. 
In the mean time the wildest spot he could think of 
was the Neck. 

The Neck was a strip of land, mostly marshes and 
vegetable gardens, which stretched down to League 
Island. It was called the “ Ma’sh ” by its inhabi- 
tants; the “Banks” by people who fished in the 
Delaware, and the “ Neck ” by everybody else. The 
muskrat made its abode there, the frog held musical 
festivals there; and in the late summer, when the 
tassels of the reeds were full of seeds, there were 
crowds of reed-birds, and almost one hunter with a 
gun to every reed-bird. 

These reed-birds had gradually made their way 
southward from New England. In the spring, in 
the more northern clime, they were known as bobo- 
links; and later, if the hunters should spare a few, 
they would grow fat in the swamps of the Carolinas, 
and be eaten as the famous rice-bird. It is remark- 
able that as these birds became more greedy, nobody 
cared for them except to eat them. As Bob o’ Link 
— formerly called in England Robert of Lincoln, — the 
bird was highly respected and admired, because he 
paid some attention to his song, his manners and 
dress, and did not think entirely of his stomach. As 
the reed-bird, he bent all his energies to the consid- 
eration of what he should eat; and as the rice-bird, 
3 


34 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

he became a real glutton — and that was the ruin of 
him. 

There were miles of cabbage gardens in the Neck, 
which at this season of the year were covered with 
snow. There were ponds of stagnant water, too, 
which Miles loved because they were covered with 
ice, and were better places for skating than the gut- 
ters, to which he was generally confined ; for his 
aunt looked on the very name of the Neck with dis- 
approval. It was from this dark and mysterious 
place that the “ necker ” came, by some believed to be 
descended from those Hessians whom the British 
employed on their side during the Revolution. 
From this place, too, came those idiotic folks — Mrs. 
Danby, at least, considered them idiotic — called 
“New Year’s Shooters,’’ who on the ist of January 
assumed strange guises, and marched through the 
streets in the lower part of the city. 

Reginald had never been in the Neck even for a 
walk ; it was forbidden ground. But Miles had made 
many visits thither on Saturday afternoons, salving 
his conscience with the plea — a bad one— that his 
aunt had never told him expressly not to go, though 
he knew she would have been horrified if she had 
known of his journeyings. 

So great was Reginald’s terror of the Neck that 
Miles felt he would have preferred the jail to it. 
Many a time over their tea, the old ladies had told 
tales of terrible murders committed there, and Regi- 
nald had them all by heart. Unconscious of the 
place of their destination, but heavy with woe, Regi- 
nald trudged along. Ah, if he could only have one 
last breakfast with his aunt! Through an open 
door, into which a pitcher of milk had just been car- 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


35 


ried, came the scent of coffee and fried sausage. 
The tears came into Reginald’s eyes; the smell of 
that breakfast was another added to the miseries of 
the morning, and it made Miles understand that he 
was hungry. 

But the thoughts of both the boys were suddenly 
turned in a new direction. The first gleam of the 
morning sun flashed on the gilded buttons of a police- 
man ! 

The policeman was standing near a lamp-post, 
unconscious of the nearness of a great criminal. 
Reginald turned pale and closed his eyes. Miles 
assumed an expression of angelic innocence. 

“We are gone!” Reginald said, “we are gone. 
Miles! But perhaps if you tell him who broke the 
pane of glass he may let 7tie off.” 

“If he asks me. I’ll tell him,” answered Miles. 
“If he doesn’t, I won’t.” 

The policeman raised his arms and yawned. 

“He is going to use his club!” exclaimed Regi- 
nald, rushing forward as if to throw himself at the 
feet of the great man. 

“Stop!” said Miles. “Maybe he will not see us.” 

Miles drew himself up, and tried to walk past the 
policeman with a grand air. Reginald tried to hide 
himself behind him. 

“Hello!” said the policeman, with authority. 
“Where are you going? Stop there. What’s your 
name ? ” (to Miles). 

“Miles McGarry, sir.” 

“I knowjt?^,” said the policeman, shaking his fin- 
ger at Miles. “ And that’s your good cousin with 
you, is it? Well, you can’t be up to much mischief 
when he’s along.” And the policeman turned away, 


36 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCH. 


with another yawn. For the first time in Miles’ life 
he began to understand that a good reputation is a 
valuable thing. 

Reginald sighed, much relieved. This danger 
was past, and he prayed that they might escape all 
others. 

They had walked about five squares, meeting only 
a few people going to work, when Reginald suddenly 
grasped Miles’ hand and tried to speak. The words 
froze on his lips. Just turning the corner was a 
baker’s wagon — and in that wagon appeared the 
flour-covered face of Hans Gewitz. 


CHAPTER V. 

IN THE "NECK." 

H ans gewitz tried to jump out of his wagon — 
or at least so it seemed to the boys. He raised 
his right hand in the air, and furiously pulled up his 
horse with his left. 

“Run!” Miles called out to Reginald, 

And off Reginald flew, like an arrow. Miles fol- 
lowed him more slowly. Hans called after them. 
Reginald stopped. 

“Miles,” he said, “I have half a mind to go and 
give myself up to Hans Gewitz. After all, I haven’t 
done anything wrong. I wouldn’t have stolen his 
Dutch cake for anything in the world, I never stole 
anything in my life ; and I am sure God would pre- 
vent them from sending me to jail,” 

“You’re an awful coward,” replied Miles, panting 
for breath. “ Nothing would make me go back now. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


37 


I’m very fond of Aunt Danby and all that, —just as 
fond as you are; and I am sacrificing myself just to 
keep you out of jail.” 

‘‘7 shall go back,” said Reginald. “ If I do go to 
jail, people will soon find out that I didn’t take the 
Dutch cake or break the window.” 

“Well,” said Miles, suddenly seeing a prospect of 
the disappearance of his hopes about wildernesses 
and adventures, “you can do as you please. But 
don’t you remember the story of the girl and the 
magpie ? ” 

Reginald remembered it too well: he had dreamed 
about it. 

“You know,” Miles went on, noticing the effect 
he was producing, “ that the servant-girl went to 
sleep in the kitchen, and a magpie — that’s a bird — 
came and stole the spoons. The girl had no friend 
to take her away, as I am taking you, and so they 
sent her to jail. The consequence was that her head 
was chopped off.” 

Reginald shuddered. “They wouldn’t do that 
now,” he said after a pause. 

“I hope not; but aunt often says that you don’t 
know what they’ll do under a Republican adminis- 
tration.” 

“My father was a Republican,” observed Regi- 
nald, brightening up. 

“Well, isn’t he dead?” asked Miles. 

There was no denying this. Reginald said no 
more, but trudged onward with a heavy heart. After- 
ward Reginald wished many times that he had 
turned back ; and so did Miles for that matter. 

The morning was cold. To avoid Hans, they had 
turned toward the east. They were now facing the 


38 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


river. The wind blew briskly. It brought to the 
boys very keenly the absence of breakfast. They 
reached Second Street Market. Miles’ face bright- 
ened. The market was a long, shingle-roofed series 
of buildings, occupying the centre of the street. 
Behind the stalls, on which were piled eggs, butter, 
and all sorts of winter vegetables, were market- 
women, well wrapped up in shawls, ruddy and loud- 
voiced. They seemed like old friends to Reginald, 
and like old enemies to Miles. There, for instance, 
was Meg Watkins, who sat behind a stall laden 
with butter and eggs and cheese. Reginald, when 
sent to her by his aunt, had been so very polite that 
she recognized him now with a gracious smile; and, 
after asking for Mrs. Danby, gave him a handful of 
peppermint drops out of a bag she carried slung 
around her waist. Before she could find the pepper- 
mint drops, she had to count over many pennies, and 
overhaul several pin-cushions and bits of court- 
plaster. The pennies were rather greasy, but Regi- 
nald did not mind that; it was delightful to meet 
somebody who did not know that he was doomed to 
jail. 

Meg was not so amiable to Miles. She scowled at 
him; for the last time he had been in the market he 
had played tag with another boy and stumbled over 
a crate of eggs. He had not been hurt, but the 
eggs had been damaged ; consequently he was not 
offered any peppermint drops. But he did not mind 
that. 

There was a smell of hot coffee in the clear air; 
it came from a stand in the middle compartment of 
the market, devoted to the butchers. Thither he 
directed his footsteps, followed by Reginald, whose 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


39 


mind was filled with the most sentimental thoughts. 
He recalled, with a sigh, a pleasant memory of the 
curds-and-whey woman who occupied a specially 
breezy corner in the summer time. How delicious 
was the cream she poured over the huge white curds 
swimming in the golden whey! And there was the 
cold and repellent ice-cream stand — how dismal, how 
mournful now! — where, for twenty cents, one could 
in June freeze one’s insides with four flavors; and 
sometimes, if a boy took vanilla, strawberry, lemon, 
and chocolate, the keeper of the stand would return 
one cent with a benignant smile. 

Tears came again to Reginald’s eyes, as he re- 
flected that he would never more enjoy the luxuries 
of the market. The season of strawberries would 
pass, and the market would not know him ; the pre- 
serving time would come, and his aunt would not 
send him to take home the ripest quinces to be found. 
Never, never again would he taste those conserves of 
little yellow tomatoes, with ginger lying among 
them, the making of which was one of his aunt’s 
secrets. If the steam of the hot coffee had not at 
this moment greeted his nostrils, he might have burst 
into tears. 

No such sentimental thoughts occupied Miles. 
He was doing his best to avoid the eye of the man 
who sold dried fruit. Once — not so very long ago — 
Miles had upset a bag of prunes by accident on a 
very busy Saturday, while he was waiting for a quart 
of dried pears. The man, who had heard of Miles, 
would not believe that it was an accident. Luckily, 
he was very busy picking the sprouts from some 
German peas which had just arrived, and so Miles 
slipped around, and found himself at last at the edge 


40 


TTIE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


of the coffee stall. He sighed with relief. There 
was nobody else at the stall, which was built in front 
of a cooking apparatus. Tin boilers held coffee and 
tea and soup. 

Miles and Reginald seated themselves on the little 
round stools before the narrow counter, and gazed 
at the hot bread, rolls, doughnuts, and pies, so tempt- 
ingly displayed. Miles ordered some pepper-pot, a 
thick soup made of tripe, with little balls of dough 
and plenty of sweet marjoram in it. Reginald had 
coffee and rolls and some bologna sausage. Miles’ 
face beamed above the steam of his hot bowl of soup, 
— a picture of satisfaction. Even Reginald felt that 
life was worth living after he had drained his cup 
and dug two spoonfuls of thick brown sugar from the 
bottom of it. 

But this could not last forever. The boys, felt 
that they must move on. And all of a sudden Miles 
began to ask himself. Where? The Neck had, it is 
true, certain advantages. Still, the Neck was not 
romantic enough to offer great promises to an ad- 
venturous soul like his. It might, he thought, be 
well enough for a sojourn ; but as a regular thing it 
would not do at all. Again they shouldered their 
packages and walked southward. The sun was 
stronger by this time, and its rays warmed the world 
somewhat. It occurred to Miles that he might as 
well get Reginald’s views as to his future. 

“ Would you rather live among pirates or canni- 
bals?” he asked his cousin, after they had walked 
several squares. 

Reginald did not reply, and Miles repeated the 
question. 

“Why do you talk such nonsense? It would be 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


41 


better to go to jail than to have anything to do with 
such people.” 

“Oh, pirates have good qualities like other peo- 
ple! It would be nice to convert them, and then 
make them so grateful that they would give us all 
their stolen goods and jewels and gold. You might 
do a great deal of good among pirates, and have lots 
of fun besides.” 

Reginald tightened his lips. “ I did not leave a 
good home ” — here he gave a great gulp — “ to go and 
live among pirates. They might make us as bad as 
themselves: aunt always said evil associates cor- 
rupted good morals.” 

“ But you wouldn’t object to cannibals, — poor, 
heathen cannibals that don’t know any better?” 

“ I should think that such people would be un- 
pleasant,” said Reginald, firmly. “Besides, they 
might not understand that we meant to convert 
them: they might eat us.” 

“ I never saw a boy so afraid of things,” retorted 
Miles. “I never did!” 

“ I don’t want to associate with pirates or canni- 
bals,” said Reginald, with dignity. “If you intend 
to make friends among such people, we had better 
part at once.” 

“Oh, I was only in fun!” said Miles, soothingly. 
“ A desert island would be nice, — like the Swiss Family 
Robinson place. It would be a good idea to buy a 
goat — they’re cheap in the Neck, — and have it handy, 
in case we should be cast on a desert island.” 

Reginald glanced scornfully at Miles. “What 
would auntie say if she thought we would go to a 
place where there is no church ? ” 

“Oh, if we were cast away we couldn’t help that. 


42 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


yo\x know! We’d have to read our prayer-book on 
Sunday, just as I did the Sunday I hurt my foot and 
couldn’t go out.” 

“I will not be cast away,” remarked Reginald, 
decidedly. 

Miles felt that he had made a great mistake in 
keeping this creature out of jail. He was only fit 
for jail, after all, and not intended to face unknown 
dangers. Miles pitied Reginald, and made another 
attempt. 

‘‘ It would be great to be pursued by a herd of 
buffaloes on fiery mustangs.” 

‘‘I don’t know what you mean,” said Reginald; 
“and I don’t know much about buffaloes; but I have 
always heard that they walked on hoofs, and not on 
what you call mustangs. I want. Miles McGarry, 
to find a place where we can live quietly, until auntie 
fixes things so that I shall not have to go to jail.” 

Miles was disgusted with this. Of course he would 
have to stick to Reginald, as Reginald was his 
cousin, and such a weakling that he could not get on 
alone. To do Miles justice, he honestly believed 
that his cousin would starve without him. The shop 
would be much better than travelling with Reginald : 
they were to meet no pirates or cannibals, and live 
on no desert island. But he said to himself that, as 
he got Reginald into the scrape, he must stick to 
him. Reginald would be a great charge, no doubt; 
nevertheless, he would never desert him. 

They trudged along rather painfully; for their 
bundles grew heavier and heavier. At last they 
reached a place where the paved sidewalks ceased. 
Before them stretched a level plain, dotted with 
houses here and there, and with fences showing 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCH. 


43 


above the snow. On their left was the river, filled 
with floating blocks of ice, on which crows, black as 
night, fought for such morsels as had fallen from 
passing vessels. They laid their bundles down in 
the soft snow on the bank, and watched with interest 
the greedy antics of these cunning-looking birds. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Cj^SAR and his m/s truss. 

T he Neck was not an inviting place, except to the 
adventurous soul. To the west, the boys saw 
snow, broken by fences, barns, and isolated houses. 
There were some trees, laden with icicles, but they 
did not give cheerfulness to the landscape. The 
caw of the crows was not pleasant; a thaw had set 
in, and the snow on the road had become mixed with 
mud. Ships and small boats were gliding up and 
down the river, making their way among the blocks 
of ice. Reginald, looking cityward, found some 
consolation in the clouds of smoke that rose from 
many chimneys. Some of those clouds were perhaps 
from Mrs. Danby’s stove. He sighed and forgot 
the crows that were disporting themselves on the ice 
blocks. A great homesickness fell upon him; he 
asked himself whether, after all, it were not better to 
go back to jail than to stay in this desolate place. 

“I can’t stand this,” he said to lliles. “Where 
are we ? ” 

“In the Neck,” Miles answered, in a sepulchral 
whisper. 

“The Neck!” Reginald shuddered. “Miles, let 


44 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


US get away as fast as we can. You know there was 
a whole family murdered here ” 

“Oh, yes, I know!” interrupted Miles. “But J 
don’t go till I get some dinner. It is after eleven 
o’clock, and we have had a long walk.” 

“ Dinner at one of these houses, — we can buy it, 
can’t we ? ” 

Reginald stood looking at the crows, a picture of 
desolation. To be murdered in such a place, he 
thought, was bad; but to depend on the cookery of 
the strange creatures that inhabited the Neck was 
almost as bad. 

“ Miles,” he said, “ tell me what you intend to do.” 

“ We can’t do much without a gun. I could knock 
down a bird or two if I had a gun.” 

“Birds!” said Reginald, with a shudder. “You 
wouldn’t eat those crows! ” 

Miles blushed slightly. There were no birds in 
sight except the crows. His face brightened as he 
saw some ducks paddling in a half-melted pool of 
water near them. 

“A duck or two wouldn’t be bad. This country 
actually swarms with ducks. Look at ’em! ” 

But Reginald refused to be enthusiastic. “ If you 
shot one of those tame ducks, you’d probably get 
into jail,” he said. 

“Tame ducks! Tame!” Miles repeated. But he 
hastily changed the subject. “ Let’s make tracks for 
that house.” 

Reginald shouldered his bundle. The-boys picked 
their way over the soggy road, almost up to their 
knees in black mud. It was slow work. At last 
they reached a broken-down board fence, behind 
which a few chickens were scratching in the spaces 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


45 


between piles of dirty snow. A dog chained at the 
door of a kennel snarled; and the boys paused for 
a moment to look at the shanty, which seemed half 
dwelling-house, half barn. As they stood there, the 
bells of the city and the whistles of the factories 
spoke out the hour of twelve. Reginald blessed 
himself. Surely among those bells was the one 
which had been the signal for the Angelus every day. 
He could not kneel in the miid, but nevertheless he 
said the prayer with more fervor than ever before in 
his life. From that moment he felt some comfort. 

Miles did not hear the bells: he was looking at 
the dog. Not caring to enter the gate until he had 
a guarantee of the good faith of the snarling animal, 
he continued to pound loudly on the fence with his fist. 

After a short interval a woman dressed in a calico 
frock, and with a mop of yellow hair tumbling down 
her back, opened the house door. 

“What say?” she demanded, in a shrill voice. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Miles replied. 

“I guess you must be kinder crazy,” she went on, 
wiping a pair of very red hands in her apron. 
“ Don’t yer know this is wash day? You be off.” 

She was about to shut the door when Miles asked: 
“ Can’t you sell us a dinner? ” 

“Maybe I could and maybe I couldn’t,” she said, 
ungraciously. “Come in. Don’t mind the dawg. 
Caesar hasn’t any spunk in him. He broke his teeth 
trying to chaw the last man that climbed the fence. 
He’s all right.” 

Miles and Reginald made a circuit round the dog, 
in order to enter the house. Caesar glared at them 
balefully and clanked his rusty chain, several links of 
which were tied together with rope. 


46 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Once in the house, the boys took the two wooden 
chairs which their hostess carefully dusted for them, 
and laid down their bundles with sighs of relief. 
Reginald’s arms ached; and Miles, whose muscles 
were tougher, was rather tired too. 

The woman drew her wash-tub into a corner of the 
room, covered it with a quilt, and went to a stove, 
the round plates of which were red-hot. Reginald 
felt that he was safe: no murder could be committed 
in an atmosphere filled with the odor of soup, and, 
as he suspected, with “noodle soup.” There were 
hams and sides of pork hung from the roof of the 
room, intermixed with strings of dried red and green 
peppers. Reginald felt that this home of plenty 
could not be a den of murder, in spite of the old 
ladies’ stories. 

The woman drew a pine table from the wall, cov- 
ered with a coarse cloth, and set upon it yellow bowls 
and plates. 

“ I hope you like noodle soup,” she said. “ I have 
nothing else. He don’t come home until night from 
the shop, so I don’t make much fuss about eating in 
the middle of the day. But he’s death on noodle 
soup when he does come.” 

The boys were silent for a time, but Miles after a 
while, wishing to be sociable, asked if “ he ” were a 
boy. 

“A boy! ” said the woman, stopping in the act of 
cutting thick slices of bread. “A boy! Don’t talk 
to me of boys! I hate ’em. I have four girls, and 
they are all at school. Don’t talk to me of boys. 
Caesar hates ’em, too. When I say ‘he,’ I mean the 
man of the house, of course.” 

Miles tried to look as if he were not a boy, but he 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


47 


did not succeed. Reginald’s eyes became as large as 
saucers when he observed the next action of this 
singular woman. She deliberately dug her thumb 
into a pound of butter, and carefully spread it over 
the two slices of bread. 

“There!” she said. “Now fill yourselves with 
bread, so that you won’t gluttonize all the soup.” 

Miles lifted his slice of bread to his lips and took 
a bite, but Reginald could not bring himself to do it. 
The woman noticed his pretence. 

“That’s good enough bread for anybody!” she 
snapped. “ I suppose you want Dutch cake every 
day.” 

Reginald turned pale. Did she know, too ? 

“I am not saying anything against the bread,” 
said Reginald. “ I am very fond of bread, if it’s 
not too fresh, ma’am. But ” 

“Well, why don’t you eat it, then, like your 
brother? ” 

“ I — I — like to see the butter put on with a knife. 
I know it’s wrong,” said Reginald, meekly, catching 
a fiery glance, “but I’m not used to foreign ways. 
I suppose I’ll get to like your way.” 

“ I ain’t a furrener. My grandma — she was a 
Pennsylvania Dutchwoman — spread the bread with 
her thumb; and there ain’t no cleaner people than 
the Pennsylvania Dutch. You eat that bread, or I’ll 
not let you leave this house alive.” 

There was silence. Reginald slowly gulped down 
the bread, bit by bit. It was hard. But there was 
no such difficulty with the noodle soup. Reginald 
saw it filling his bowl, the fluid covering the thin 
strips of dough somewhat resembling what the Ital- 
ians called macaroni. The woman watched them. 


48 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


ready for battle if there should be any show of fault- 
finding. Reginald was surprised at the absence of a 
table-cloth, and he looked about for a napkin. 

“ What do you want ? ” demanded the hostess, in 
her high tone. “ What do you want ? ” 

“ I only thought ” began Reginald, blushing un- 
der the lady’s eagle eye; “I only thought ” 

“ You were looking for something. If you don’t 
see what you want, just ask for it,” she added, 
jocosely. 

Reginald took her seriously. “ I should like a nap- 
kin, if you don’t mind, ma’am.” 

The woman stared at him, and then burst into 
laughter. 

“I guess you don’t expect napkins with five-cent 
plates of soup,” she said, with crushing sarcasm. 

Miles laughed, and the woman seemed to take it 
as a tribute to her wit. She looked amiably at 
him. 

“You’ve more life in you than your brother,” 
she said, frankly. “ He looks to me like a ‘sissy ’ 
kind of a boy. What are you doing here in the 
Neck ? ” 

This question was embarrassing. Miles buried his 
face in his yellow bowl and did not answer. Regi- 
nald felt that his hour had come; probably this 
woman had read somewhere in the papers that the 
police were looking for him. Finally Miles broke 
the silence. 

“ Your grandmother must have been a mighty good 
woman,” he said, “to teach you to make soup like 
that.” 

The woman looked at him grimly. “ You don’t 
get any more of it, young man. My grandmother 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


49 


was dead before I was born. It is my opinion you 
are running away from somebody.” 

Miles looked the woman straight in the eyes; he 
had no other answer; nothing on earth would have 
induced him to tell a lie. He looked at Reginald, 
almost hoping that his conscience would be less 
tender. But Reginald’s adversity had made him 
very anxious to be good. 

“ As sure as my name’s Selina Swanacker, I be- 
lieve you are running away from somebody; and 
probably thieves, too! And where did you get those 
bundles? Answer instantly, or I’ll knock the heads 
off you both 1 ” 

Miles picked up his bundle; Reginald followed his 
example. 

“No, you don’t!” cried the lady. “No, you 
don’t,” standing in the doorway. 

Miles made a dash past her, Reginald followed. 
Miles’ head was as hard as a cannon-ball; and this 
hostess, who was so unwilling to speed the parting 
guests, stepped aside suddenly. The boys splashed 
through the slushy yard and into the mud of the 
road. They made for the river. 

“Hi, Caesar! hi, Caesar! after them!” 

There was a yelp, and something broke — probably 
the rope which tied Caesar’s chain. Miles looked. 
Caesar was on their track. The boy stopped a mo- 
ment, and pretended to find a stone. But Caesar 
knew the trick. He kept straight on. Miles and 
Reginald reached the bank of the river. Before 
them, a foot below the bank, was a sheet of ice. 
Miles, his heart beating with fear of that horrible 
dog, jumped upon it. Reginald followed. The ice, 
jarred by the sudden motion, parted from the bank, 
4 


50 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

and floated away. To add to the horrors of the 
situation, it occurred suddenly to Reginald that they 
had not paid for the soup. But another horror drove 
the fear of a new charge of theft out of his head; 
Caesar was with them on the ice ; and the two boys, 
Caesar, and a wounded crow, who had not noticed 
the disturbance, were drifting out toward mid-stream. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE '■'■JERSEY BLUE." 

M iles and Reginald fixed their eyes on Caesar. 

The dog was not a beauty; he seemed to be of 
a very mixed breed: he was reddish brown and 
white, with a pointed head and short ears. Reginald 
saw, with relief, that his teeth had been somewhat 
broken. This did not add to his beauty, but the 
boys were not at this moment especially interested 
in his beauty. 

The peril of the time made even Miles silent. As 
for Reginald, he could only hold tight to his bundle 
and watch Caesar. Caesar took no notice of the boys. 
He sniffed at the edge of the ice, dipped one paw 
into the water and howled. As he howled, his mis- 
tress appeared on the bank, and waved her hands 
toward the boys. 

“You Hessians!” she cried out. “You thieves! 
How dare you take away my dog ? Come back and 
pay me for that soup! Come back, I say! ” 

Miles turned his back to her; but Reginald, moved 
by fear and politeness, began a long speech to her. 
“We would pay for the soup, ma’am,” he said, “if 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 5 1 

we could. And we don’t want your dog. If you 
will be kind enough to come and take him ” 

Here Caesar, catching sight of his mistress, began 
to howl with all his might. The woman raised her 
arms and threatened the boys; but the river was 
carrying them out of the reach of her voice, and 
they could not hear the wild, whirling words she sent 
after them. 

Reginald reflected that life was hard; troubles 
were coming thick and fast. He was not only ac- 
cused of breaking a pane of glass and of stealing a 
Dutch cake, but of running off with somebody’s else 
dog and money! 

This did not trouble Miles much. His eyes and 
thoughts were fixed on the line of the Pennsylvania 
shore, which appeared to recede from him. The ice 
block began to float more slowly, as it met with 
other ice blocks. In the middle of the river there 
was a clear channel: the ice was moving toward it. 
The crow, frightened by Caesar, finally took wing 
and flew away; and how earnestly Miles wished that 
he could fly! But wishing was of no use. He saw 
that the nearer they approached the channel, the 
more dangerous their position became. Few ships or 
boats passed through that part of the river in which 
they were; here and there a small boat ploughed its 
way through the ice, but it was only in the middle 
that the navigation was free. Miles trembled at the 
thought of being run down by one of the rapid 
barks or schooners he saw passing; or, worse still, 
by a European steamer; yet he was helpless. He 
thought that if he had an oar or even the branch of 
a tree he might keep the ice block out of the chan- 
nel. As it was, he saw that the whole mass pf 


52 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


blocks was slowly but surely drifting toward the 
dangerous quarter. 

The wind was blowing hard toward the Pennsyl- 
vania shore; but the tide seemed to be counteracting 
its effect on the ice block. There might be a chance 
of some vessel picking them up ; but the ice blocks 
now seemed so closely packed together that the boys 
no doubt had the appearance of standing on a solid 
field of ice. In reality, each block was separated 
from the other, with running water between, 

“Oh, if we could only get back to the shore!” 
said Miles. “ If we get into that channel once, we 
may be lost.” 

“Oh, we can’t go near the shore!” spoke Regi- 
nald. “That woman would be after us, she’s wait- 
ing. You can see her on the bank.” 

Miles looked scornfully at Reginald. “ You always 
were a sissy!” he said. “Who’s afraid of the wo- 
man? And the dog is as anxious to get away as we 
are. The trouble is that we’ll be drowned if we once 
get into the channel ; and the ice seems moving that 
way.” 

Caesar was still standing close to the edge of the 
block, dipping his paws in the water, and evidently 
finding it cold. Miles tried to encourage him to 
jump on the adjacent ice, but Caesar was determined 
to take no risks. 

“ If we could only get back to the bank! ” sighed 
Miles. 

At this moment there was a great commotion in 
the river. The ice blocks crushed against one an- 
other, and the two had to sit down to keep from fall- 
ing off. A steamer was passing up the river, — not a 
great ocean stearner, but one bound to some place 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 53 

on the Delaware. There was a crashing, which 
made Caesar put up his ears in fright. The waves 
lifted the ice block into the air for an instant, and 
water came over its side. 

“ The nearer we get to the channel, the worse this 
will be ! ” cried Miles. “ Oh, can’t we do something ? ” 

“I don’t think we can do anything but say our 
prayers,” said Reginald. And this they did, with 
all their heart. 

The crashing subsided; but the boys, seeing an- 
other steamer coming up the stream, had every 
reason to believe that it would begin again. They 
sat on the ice, trying to steady themselves with their 
hands. Caesar raised his head to the sky and howled. 
Nobody seemed to notice them, except Caesar’s 
owner, who stood threateningly on the bank. 

“ We shall be close to the channel in a few min- 
utes!” cried Miles, looking reproachfully at Regi- 
nald, and then returning to his prayers. Reginald 
was not so frightened as Miles expected him to be. 
Miles saw him open his bundle of clothes, and he 
groaned. Perhaps the foolish creature was unwilling 
to be drowned in the collar he had worn all the 
morning. This was the thought that flashed through 
Miles’ mind. But Reginald was not thinking of his 
toilet. He drew from his package a large towel, 
which he had carefully stowed away there, reflecting 
that probably towels were scarce in wildernesses. 
Miles went on with his prayers; it made no differ- 
ence what Reginald wanted to do now; if his Guar- 
dian Angel did not help him he was doomed; for if 
they reached the channel, the next passing steamer 
would swamp them. 

“Take hold,” Reginald said, giving him one side 


54 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


of the big towel. “Take the upper end with your 
right hand and the lower with your left.” 

Miles obeyed, simply because there was nothing 
else to do. Reginald held his side firmly. Almost 
instantly the wind, which blew strongly from the 
east, filled the towel, and the block of ice was sent 
at a fair rate of speed toward the Pennsylvania shore. 
It pushed the other loose blocks away from it on 
either side; and poor Miles, with a beating heart, 
saw the figure of the waiting woman grow larger 
and larger every moment. She was waiting for 
Caesar — and, alas! for them. 

As the ice in front of them accumulated, their 
pace grew slower. But, still praying as hard as they 
could, they held on to their sail. 

“ Hello there! ” a husky voice near them said. 

Caesar answered with a howl. The boys turned to 
the right, from which the voice came. A man in a 
small skiff was within a yard of them. His face was 
thin, wrinkled, and sunburned. His whiskers, of a 
hue to match his hair, which was “sandy,” made a 
ring under his chin, and straggled about as if they 
had fallen there by mistake. He had keen, blue 
eyes, under white eyelashes. He was sculling, — that 
is, standing in the stern of his boat and working with 
one oar over the stern. On this stern the boys saw 
the name of his boat painted in white letters. It 
was the Jersey Blue. 

“Do you want to go to shore? Is that your ma 
beckoning to you?” he asked, pointing to Cffisar’s 
mistress. 

“Oh, no, good man!” said Reginald. “That wo- 
man would put us in jail, if she had us. She’s not 
our mother.” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 55 

“You seem mighty anxious to get to her, to judge 
by the way you’re using that towel for a sail. But 
you’ll have to go slowly: the ice is getting more and 
more packed in front of you. You’ll get to shore 
some time about dark. Perhaps a thaw will set in, 
and then you’ll be dropped as slickly into the river 
as a sliced potato into the dripping. If you were 
going to Jersey now, I might give you a lift across 
the river, if you’d promise me to take turns in 
sculling.” 

“Oh, do!” cried Miles. 

“Ah, good man, please do!” pleaded Reginald. 

“Jump in, then,” said the man, bringing his skiff 
up against the ice block. 

Miles and Reginald accepted his invitation at once. 

“You are not going to leave the dog?” the man 
went on. “ What, leave the faithful animal that has 
stuck so close to you in misfortune! ” 

“We don’t want it to stick to us; that’s just what 
we don’t want, that’s just what made us jump on 
the ice block,” said Miles. 

The man shook his head reproachfully. “Boys, 
boys,” he said, “never be cruel to animals which 
have served you. Never. There was once a boy 
who had a faithful dog. This boy fell into a raging 
cataract. What was the consequence ? The faithful 
animal, knowing the wickedness of his master’s heart, 
let him fall without so much as lifting a paw. What 
was the consequence ? The boy’s skeleton lies at 
the bottom of that cataract to the present day. 
And the dog, who had a tender conscience, went to 
the bad.” 

Miles and Reginald hoped that the man would 
push his boat forward toward the New Jersey side as 


56 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


soon as possible, and leave Caesar to get back to his 
mistress as best he could. 

“What is your dog’s name?” 

“ It’s not our dog,” said Miles. “ We don’t want 
it.” 

“ Poor, faithful animal, deserted in its old age by 
those who should give it succor,” murmured the man. 

Caesar turned, and showed his teeth in a vicious 
snarl. 

“If this dog is not yours,” said the man, turning 
to the boys, “how is it that he is in your company? 
I hope you did not steal him only to desert him.” 

“Oh, no, sir!” said Reginald, his heart sinking. 
“ He followed us.” 

“He trusted you,” said the man, sadly, “and you 
deceived him. How like human life! To-day we 
are, to-morrow we are not. Again I ask you,” he 
added, making his eyebrows very bushy in a terrible 
frown, “how shall I address this animal?” 

“Caesar,” whispered Miles. 

“Hi, Caesar! ” said the man. 

In an instant the dog was in the skiff, with his 
broken teeth set viciously in Miles’ bundle. 

The man shook his head sadly. “ Even the dumb 
beast resents ingratitude.” 

Miles pulled his bundle away, and Caesar squatted 
in the stern of the Jersey Blue. 

“ Where do you live ? ” asked the man, when his 
keen eyes had quizzed the boys for some time. 

“Nowhere,” said Miles quickly, fearing that Regi- 
nald would tell too much. 

The man’s eyes brightened. “Then you would 
work in a good home and for a good home?” 

“ Yes, — yes, — ” answered Reginald ; “ / would. I 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


57 


am not cut out for buffaloes or Indians or pirates; I 
should like a good home. I have nothing to say 
against pirates,” he added, fearing that the owner 
of the Jersey Blue might have a near relative in 
that class; “but from what I hear of them they are 
not respectable.” 

“You mean river pirates? You are right, young 
man. One of them stole my last skiff, the Mary 
Ann; she was a beauty. Have nothing to do with 
pirates. I’m a farmer, you know.” 

“ I never shall, sir. Of course I should be polite 
to them if I happened to meet them. Aunt Danby 
often told us that one should always be polite. One 
sometimes misses a good sale in business by bad 
manners.” 

The man nodded approvingly. “I’ll give you 
each fifteen cents a week to begin with ; and if you 
suit me and Sally, we’ll adopt you.” 

Reginald felt that he ought to be grateful ; Miles 
frowned. No pirates, no cannibals, no adventures! 
Only fifteen cents a week on a Jersey farm! It was 
very discouraging. He wished with all his heart that 
he had let Reginald go to jail. 


CHAPTER VIH. 

THE BOUND GIRL. 

T he Jerseyman was silent for a time. But Caesar, 
whose spirits seemed to rise the moment he was 
taken off the ice, frisked about in the skiff; and, 
after some harmless and gay antics, which seemed 
dreadful in a dog with one foot in the grave, dug th^ 


58 THE FLOWER OF, THE FLOCK. 

stumps of his teeth into Miles’ jacket, near the cuff. 
Miles caught the animal by the back of the neck and 
tried to throw him overboard; the Jerseyman called 
out to him to let the dog alone. 

“Why,” he said, “ would you harm an innocent 
beast ? That dog stuck to you on the ice when 
many a human being would have left you to your 
fate.” 

“ I don’t want him to stick to me, that’s what I 
don’t want. If I threw him overboard, he’d get 
ashore on the ice. I’m sure I don’t want to drown 
him,” answered Miles, holding Caesar tight around 
the neck. Caesar struggled from his grasp, and, 
somewhat subdued, lay down in the boat. 

“The child is father to the man,” said the owner 
of the Jersey Blue; “ and the boy is a child. If you 
keep on this way, you will become a murderer when 
you are old enough to be your own father. I don’t 
want to hurt anybody’s feelings,” added the Jersey- 
man, with a grim look at the boys; “but a murderer 
can come to no good end. And if a boy tries to kill 
a poor dog, he may one day reach the gallows.” 

Miles felt as if he had committed a crime, and 
Reginald kept his bundle well between him and 
Caesar. The skiff made its way slowly among the 
blocks of ice. Miles, having watched the man scull, 
offered to relieve him. The Jerseyman consented; 
and the boy took his place, very awkwardly at first, 
but by and by with more ease. 

The Jerseyman watched him critically. “You’ll 
do,” he remarked. “You’re a hard worker, — I can 
see that. If you keep on. I’ll adopt you.” 

Reginald, who had no confidence in Miles’ skill, 
held tight to his bundle, 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


59 


The boys had been under the impression that they 
would enter the farmer’s house as soon as the skiff 
touched the shore. He moored the Jersey Blue in 
a little boat-house, took in his arms various packages 
of groceries, all of them very heavy, and bade the 
boys divide them. 

The boys meekly accepted the packages of flour, 
sugar, salt, and dried fruit he gave them. It was 
hard work to tramp through the mud thus overladen, 
but there was no resource. It was not only hard, 
it was terrible; for their hands were so occupied that 
if Caesar had fastened himself to one of them, there 
could have been no defence. The thought of such 
an attack brought tears to the eyes of the sturdy 
Miles. He grasped in his arms a large bag of flour 
and a small bag of salt, besides his own bundle. 
He could not turn his head to see what Caesar’s in- 
tentions were. His hands were occupied: he was 
helpless, Reginald carried a paper sack full of dried 
fruit and six pounds of sugar, besides his own pack- 
age, Caesar trotted behind them, and the boys were 
unhappy. If they could have seen Caesar in front of 
them, they would not have cared. As it was, they 
were glad when, after a walk of two miles, they came 
in sight of a red brick house, with a stone barn be- 
hind it. 

“That,” said the man, pointing to the house, “is 
where I live, Sal and the bound girl live there too. 
Sal is my wife; the bound girl is — the bound 
girl.” 

Caesar, at sight of the house, ran forward, with 
suspicion and distrust impressed in the curl of his 
tail. The boys sighed gratefully; and Reginald, 
whose fingers were numbed by the sharp air, won- 


6o 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


dered how he would ever get them limber again, in 
order to write a letter to his aunt. 

The man led the boys into a kitchen, where a fire 
was burning brightly in a big cooking-stove. An 
elderly woman was bending over the stove. 

“Well, Jeff,” she asked, “did you bring the 
things? ” 

“All right,” he said, “and these boys, too. This 
is my wife, boys, Mrs. Jeff Spinks, I’m Jeff Spinks. 
I call her Sal, and she calls me Jeff. If we conclude 
to adopt you,” he added, with a wink, “you can call 
us papa and mamma.” 

Mrs. Spinks smiled and nodded her head. 

“I never will,” answered Miles, boldly. “I’ll 
never call anybody mother; my mother is in heaven.” 

“ You will do what I say,” said the man, frowning. 
“ If you want to live in this happy family, you’ll have 
to do what you are told. Go out to the barn while 
I talk to Sal, and see what you can find to do. I’ll 
come out after a while and set you to work. Hold 
on! don't take your bundles. I’ll keep them.” 

The boys went out from the kitchen door, sadder 
and wiser. They did not like Jeff Spinks in his own 
house. 

“ Let’s run away,” said Miles, 

“But how can we?” asked Reginald. ''''They" 
with a motion toward the house, “have our clothes.” 

“ I don’t care for the clothes,” replied the other, 

“ Well, I do, Miles. How could we go to church 
on Sunday dressed as we are? It would be awful.” 

“At any rate,” said Miles, whose spirits were not 
easily depressed, “that beast is safe in the kitchen. 
I wonder why that dog has been so bad to us;” 

Reginald thought about it. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 6 1 

“It’s because he is naturally bad himself, I be- 
lieve,’’ added Miles. “Our life will be horrible as 
long as he is with us, and this farmer takes his 
part.” 

“No,” said Reginald, “I don’t think the dog is 
naturally bad. I like cats better than dogs myself, 
they don’t muss things so. But dogs are good when 
people haven’t made them bad; except bull-dogs 
and spitz dogs: they’re always bad. I think so 
many boys have been bad to Caesar, that he thinks 
all boys are bad.” 

They had reached the barn, which was combined 
with a woodshed. The great folding-doors of the 
place were opened, the big wooden bolt that secured 
them had been withdrawn from the inside. The 
boys entered, and stood still ; for they heard a voice 
sing: 

“ I’m the belle of the party, 

And nobody shall say no ; 

I’m the belle of the party, — 

Haven’t I told you so ? ” 

“ There’s somebody in there,” whispered Reginald. 

Some distance from them, on the hay-strewn floor 
of the barn, stood a little girl, her hair, which hung 
down her back, ornamented with a large artificial 
red rose. About her waist was hung a long salt bag, 
which trailed on the ground; her cheeks had been 
touched with brickdust, and she held a piece of a 
broken looking-glass. She sailed gracefully up and 
down the floor, switching the train to the right and 
left, and reminding Miles of a peacock he had once 
seen. He laughed. 

The young lady turned toward the boys, and raised 
her hand, as if blinded for a moment by the light. 


62 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK, 


“ If you are tramps, you’d better go away at once. 
Mrs. Spinks never gives anything to tramps.” 

“No,” said Miles, “we are only boys; and Mr. 
Spinks told us to look round, and you seemed to be 
so funny that I laughed.” 

“I don’t see why you laughed,” said the young 
lady, giving her train a switch, and looking at the 
boys seriously with a pair of bright gray eyes. “ I 
was just practising my part. I saw a lady in the 
circus — did you ever go to a circus ? ” 

“Yes,” answered Miles; “I sneaked in under the 
canvas.” 

“ That was wrong,” said Reginald. “ I never went 
to circuses, because auntie said they lead to a sinful 
waste of money.” 

“Wrong?” cried Miles, warmly. “Didn’t the 
man that owned a side show say he’d let me in free, 
if I’d try to ride a kicking mule outside the tent? 
And didn’t I try to, and didn’t it throw me off? 
And then he wouldn’t give me what he promised, and 
I just got in under the canvas. And didn’t I tell 
Father Quinn, and didn’t he say the man ought to 
have kept his promise, but that I was wrong to dis- 
obey aunt? That’s against the Fourth Command- 
ment, you know; but there’s nothing in the Com- 
mandments about circuses.” 

“ And did you hear Madame Arabella La Grande 
sing ‘I’m the Belle of the Party ’ ? Oh, it was fine! 
I practise every day, when Mr. Spinks is away; 
and when I’m perfect I’m going to run away 
and be a circus actor. If I only had a dog, I’d 
make him jump through a hoop just as she 
did ” 

“A dog! ” asked Reginald, his eyes brightening. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 63 

“Would you like to have a dog, and would you run 
away with him, far, far away ? ” 

“That I would,” said the girl. “A pretty dog, 
white wool, with black eyes; a cute dog, you 
know.” 

“ He’s not exactly cute,” said Reginald, hesitating. 
Miles nudged him. “ That is, everybody might not 
think so. But you might like him, and he’d be com- 
pany for you. You might run away at once, if you’re 
only waiting for a dog. We could let you have one 
called Caesar.” 

“Caesar’s a great dog,” remarked Miles. “His 
mistress is very fond of him, and I have no doubt ” 

“But I forgot,” said Reginald. “He’s not our 
dog: we can’t give him away.” 

Miles and Reginald became very sad at this 
thought. 

“Of course,” Reginald said, struck by a happy 
thought, “ if Caesar should happen to follow, you 
couldn’t help it; for he’s a dog that sticks to people, 
whether they like it or not.” 

The little girl’s eyes turned from one boy to the 
other. Her red rose, which was almost as large as a 
cabbage, nodded uneasily above a nose slightly 
turned up and very much freckled. When she 
laughed, she showed two rows of small white teeth; 
altogether she seemed to be a rather queer but good- 
natured little girl. Miles thought he would like her, 
because she was fond of circuses; Reginald thought 
he would not, because her frock was ragged, and she 
had brickdust on her cheeks. 

But the little girl did not seem to care. Though 
she was glad to talk for a time, she soon looked back 
into the bit of glass, and sang softly to herself ; while 


64 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


the boys gazed at her, wondering whether she would 
run away, and whether Caesar would follow her. 

“Is Mr. Spinks your father?” asked Reginald at 
last. 

“I should think not,” returned the little girl. 
“ Nor is Mrs. Spinks my mother. I should think 
not ! " 

“ Do you like to live here ? ” Reginald asked again. 

The little girl looked around, as if she was afraid 
that somebody would hear her. 

kxt. you going to live here?” she asked. 

“ It seems so,” said Miles, with a sigh. 

“Then,” added the little girl, in a low whisper, 
“don’t let them adopt you, — that’s all. I’ve been 
adopted.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

MOLLY. 

K nowing that Mr. Spinks had returned, the 
bound girl put her fingers to her lips, and 
looked cautiously about her. 

“ I am going to run away when I can, and join a 
circus. They took me out of an orphan asylum, and 
I am bound to them, though I shall not stay here. 
But they watch me so close that I can’t get off. 
Just as the ice got hard on the river, and I thought 
I could walk across, a thaw came, and I was kept 
from going.” 

“ It is wrong to run away from a good home,” said 
Reginald. 

The little girl looked at him keenly. “ You look 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


65 


as if you had run away from home yourself. You’re 
a city boy, — I can see that. You have store clothes 
on.” 

Reginald blushed. “Ah!” he said, “if I had a 
good home once more, I’d never, never leave it.” 

“ Oh, boys are always doing strange things! ” said 
the little girl. “ I don’t like boys. They’re no use. 
They have to be waited on all the time; and they 
pull your hair, and call names after you. I just 
hate ’em. Sometimes, when I have to go to the 
store, they call me ‘almshouse girl. ’ I used to cry, 
and that made them do it more. They have no feel- 
ings — boys! I think they all ought to be put in 
prison. And I never was in an almshouse. I was 
always a respectable orphan, whose parents died 
young; and I expect some day that I’ll turn out to 
be a long-lost child, like the Maiden of the Forest. 
Say, did you ever read the ‘Maiden of the Forest ’ ? ” 
she asked, growing excited. 

“ No,” replied Reginald. 

“Is it anything like ‘Osceola the Seminole’?” 
asked Miles, eagerly. “ The Indians come up, and 
they see a herd of buffalo; and one Indian tries to 
tomahawk his brother, who is disguised as a white 
man and then ” 

“No,” said the bound girl, interrupting. “The 
real name of the Maiden of the Forest is Elmira. 
She is a Dookess, but nobody knows she is a Dook- 
ess, except Ju-pi-ta (I always have to spell that 
name). And Ju-pi-ta hides her in the dark woods, 
to escape the machineryations of her hated uncle, 
who had hidden her money in an old vault; and then 
Elmira was lost and never found, until the Book, 

who was the Dago of Wenice ” 

5 


66 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


“Who?” asked Miles, puzzled. 

“Oh,” said the bound girl, impatiently, ''don't you 
understand ? Stoopid ! The Dago of Wenice was the 
father of Elmira; and he suspicioned that the wicked 
Ju-pi-ta ” 

“ Why was she wicked > ” said Reginald, who was 
becoming interested. 

“Stoopid! Don’t you know she wasn’t wicked: 
the Dago only suspicioned it.” 

“ Who was the Dago ? ” went on Miles. 

“Oh, my!” cried the girl, stamping impatiently. 

“She means the Dog of Venice; he was a king, or 
something or other,” said Reginald. 

“Why was he called the dog?” demanded Miles. 

“Oh, don’t you know, he spelled it d-o-g-e! ” said 
Reginald. 

“ A queer way to spell dog! ” said Miles, disgusted. 
“ I should call it doggie, if I spelt it with an e. But 
then Osceola recognized his brother, disguised as a 
white man ; and he remembered the scalp his brother 
wore, because it was a scalp his grandfather had 
taken in a war with the Blackfeet, and the tears ran 
down his stoycal countinyence.” 

“What’s that?” asked the bound girl, giggling. 

“ The book says so,” said Miles, angrily. “ And 
then Osceola says, says he, ‘I recognize one whom 
I knew in infancy.’ And then the disguised brother 
throws off his whitewash — he was painted to be a 
white man, — and he takes off his hat, and then ” 

“Elmira lives in the forest for twelve years,” cut 
in the bound girl rapidly, addressing herself to Regi- 
nald; “and she becomes so transhendently beautiful 
that even the denizens of the forest — that’s an animal 
like a porcupine ” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 67 

“Did you ever see a porcupine?” asked Miles, 
jeeringly. 

“ No,” said the bound girl; “ but I saw a persim- 
mon. They’re good to eat, and ” 

Miles burst into laughter. “ She means an opos- 
sum!” he said. “A persimmon! Ha! ha! ha!” 

The bound girl’s eyes flashed. “I hate boys!” 
she said. “They don’t know anything, and they 
don’t want to know anything. I’ll tell you the rest 
of the story about the Dookess some other time,” she 
added, turning to Reginald. “You are a new kind 
of boy: you keep your finger nails clean. All I 
want to say now is that I expect to turn out to be a 
long-lost dookess, like Elmira. And then sha’n’t I 
take it out of them ! ” — she shook her fist at the house. 
“ All I want to say is that you’d better not stay here. 
As long as you are only boarders, and he doesn’t 
adopt you, you’re all right. But if he adopts you, 
you’re gone! ” 

Reginald turned pale, but was silent. Miles looked 
anxious. 

The little girl went on, in a whisper: '‘'‘She thinks 
I am looking for eggs in the barn here; but, as you 
see, I’m just resting a bit. She gets me up at four 
o’clock in the morning, — this morning I washed till 
dinner-time. She makes me do the neighbors’ wash- 
ing when I have none of her own to do. Just look ! ” 

The little girl stretched out her hands; they were 
rough and red, and scarred in many places. 

“That’s a burn,” she said. “I did that with the 
wash boiler. It’s very hard to lift: it nearly kills 
me. And I didn’t have anything to eat until dinner- 
time. Sometimes,” said the little girl, with a sigh, 
“I almost wish I was dead. Nobody cares for me; 


68 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCH. 


it’s work, work, work! ‘Molly’ here and ‘Molly’ 
there. They’re just slave-drivers, that’s all ! And 
I wish I had a home. If I only had a home, I as- 
sure you I wouldn’t care whether I was a long-lost 
dookess or not.” 

And the bound girl began to cry, the tears running 
down her cheeks and making tracks in the brickdust. 

Reginald for the first time in his life forgot him- 
self. “ My aunt always wanted a little girl for a 
companion,” he said. “ You can come home and live 
with us, if you wish. Auntie will take the best care 
of you.” 

He remembered then that he had no home, and 
his heart sank. 

‘‘ Does Mrs. Spinks whip you ? ” asked Miles, deeply 
interested. 

“ Oh, doesn’t she ? And doesn’t he ? Who-o-o-o!” 
Here the bound girl whistled. 

Reginald was shocked. “You ought not to whis- 
tle,” he said. “A nice girl should not whistle. 
Why, Aunt Danby wouldn’t let me whistle! ” 

The little girl looked at' him resentfully ; then it 
dawned on her mind that Reginald probably knew 
more of the world than she did. 

“Don’t dookesses whistle?” she asked. “I 
wouldn’t want to do anything that would make 
people think I was not a real dookess, in case I 
should be found out to be long-lost.” 

“ I don’t know,” Reginald answered. “ But I hope 
Mr. and Mrs. Spinks will not whip you again.” 

“Oh, that can’t be helped!” the little girl said, 
sighing. “I suppose I’ll have to stand it, if it 
doesn’t kill me. I used to put a piece of lead be- 
tween my teeth and bite on it when he hit really 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 69 

hard; but I almost swallowed it one time, so I am 
afraid to have it now. Oh, here he comes! Let me 
go! ” 

Molly — for her name was Molly — wiped her face 
with the end of her train, looked about her anxiously, 
and ran back into the barn. The boys involuntarily 
stepped back out of the light that came in through 
the doorway. 

“I’ll strap that creature black and blue,” they 
heard the farmer growl, “ if I find her idling away 
her time. You Molly !” he called out. “YouMolly! 
Beast! Lazy! I’ll teach you ! ” 

No reply. 

“ I’ll find that strap ! ” he called. “I know your 
tricks, Molly. You’ve hidden the strap somewhere; 
but I’ll find it. Do you hear me?” 

“7 hear you,” said Miles, stepping into the light. 
“ What do you want ? ” 

“ It’s none of your business! ” answered the man, 
frowning and shaking his fist. “ I won’t answer any 
questions in my own barn. I’m looking for that 
bound girl; and when I find her I’ll not leave an un- 
broken bone in her body.” 

He peered about and left the place, uttering threats 
as he went. When his voice died away, Molly came 
out from the depths of hay. Her face was white, 
and she trembled all over. 

“ Weren’t you afraid ? ” she asked, in surprise. 

“Not at all!” answered Miles. “ And you needn’t 
be afraid either. Let him touch you! I’ll settle 
him.” 

“You couldn’t do anything,” she said; “you’re 
only a boy. But I am glad there is somebody that 
is not afraid of him. You mustn’t interfere, though. 


70 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


If you do, it will only make him worse. I’ll just 
have to stand it.” 

“Oh, let’s leave this place! ” exclaimed Reginald. 
“ It’s awful!” 

“We can’t,” replied Miles, gloomily. “These 
people have our clothes.” 

“ We can make a policeman come and force 
them ” 

“We don’t want to have anything to do with 
policemen. A policeman might tell Hans Gewitz 
where we are. ” 

Reginald hung his head; how dreadful it all was! 

“And, besides,” said Miles, “I think we ought to 
stay here. Here’s a little girl. She might be the 
kind of little girl Aunt Danby always wanted. She 
might be our little sister; and if she were, we 
couldn’t leave her here with that man. Just think, 
she’s never had a home! ” 

Tears stood in Reginald’s eyes. “You’re right, 
Miles,” he said. “We’ll do our best for her.” 

“Go!” Molly said, suddenly, — “go! he’s coming 
back! He’ll skin us all alive. ” 

Miles hesitated, felt in his pocket, and took out 
one of those little metal statues of the Blessed Virgin. 

“There!” he said. “You hold on to that and 
pray. It’s better than lead, you’ll find, if he whips 
you.” 

“ What is it ? ” she asked, wonderingly. “ I never 
saw anything like this before.” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


71 


CHAPTER X. 

THE FEELINGS OF AN AUNT. 

M rs. DANBY was surprised when the boys did 
not answer her call to breakfast on the morn- 
ing after Hans Gewitz’s visit. She called several 
times: 

“You Miles! You Reginald! ” 

There was no answer. This was unusual. It was 
the morning on which, according to her fixed rule, 
there was always beefsteak for breakfast. This oc- 
currence three times a week always made Miles get 
up without calling. As for Reginald he made it his 
business to get up first, and beat the steak with a 
wooden mallet — for the butcher did not always have 
tender steak at the price which Aunt Danby pre- 
ferred to pay. 

While engaged in this occupation Reginald always 
sung “Rosalie, the Prairie Flower.” When Mrs. 
Danby listened, and heard neither the sounds of the 
wooden mallet nor the notes of “Rosalie,” she was 
astonished. What could it mean ? 

Again she called: “You Miles! You-00! Reg- 
inald!” 

No answer. She was struck with amazement. 
She climbed upstairs; they were gone! She almost 
fainted, it was such a shock. But when she read 
their messages she sat down and cried. Then she 
hastily made a search through the closet in which 
Reginald kept his clothes. 

“Dear boy!” she said. “ How thoughtful he is! 
He has taken his rubber shoes and red flannel. As 
if I should let him go to jail! The idea! ” 


72 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


She did not think much about Miles; she felt that 
he could take care of himself. 

After breakfast — the steak was very tough — she 
paid a visit to Hans Gewitz. He had just returned 
from his calls, and was tired and sleepy, as anybody 
would be who had served several hundred loaves of 
bread. But after Mrs. Danby had said a few words 
to him he w'as not so sleepy. He stood with his 
mouth open, staring at her, while she scolded him 
in a way that made him turn almost as pale as his 
own flour. At last Aunt Danby gave him a chance 
to speak. He explained then that he had found 
Reginald’s ten-cent piece among the fragments of 
the glass, and concluded that some other boy had 
broken the pane. He told Mrs. Danby that he had 
met the boys and had tried to call them, but that 
they had run away from him. 

Mrs. Danby asked question after question ; and 
as words followed words with great rapidity, Hans 
became sleepy again. He answered “ Yes ” and “ No. ” 
She could not get more out of him ; for Hans, unlike 
most of us, knew when he had said enough. He 
was willing to tell what he knew, but he never tried 
to tell what he didn’t know; and this was the reason 
why Hans was so highly respected. 

After a time Mrs. Danby concluded to go home. 
She had given Hans a piece of her mind, and a very 
peppery piece it was. Besides, customers might be 
waiting for her. She said a few parting words to 
Hans, who was so pleased to see her go that he gave 
her an extra Dutch cake. 

Mrs. Danby found a string of people waiting, with 
buckets in their hands, to buy coal. They were 
surprised by the delay, as she had never kept her 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


73 


customers waiting. As she measured out ten cents’ 
worth of coal to each person, she explained the fatal 
event that had taken place. But she did it in such 
an agitated way — it was sad to see the tears in the 
poor woman’s eyes as she thought of the flower of 
the flock — that there were some among her custom- 
ers who got the idea that Hans Gewitz had actually 
kidnapped the boys; and it took at least ten minutes 
to convince them that they ought not to smash his 
windows. 

Mrs. Danby talked with various friends during the 
day, but they gave her no comfort. She was glad 
when evening came; for with it came the two old 
ladies to tea. She locked the front door, and hung 
upon it a card on which was written, “ Closed. Back 
in five minutes,” and prepared to take counsel. She 
had thought for a long time over the words of the 
card. “Back in five minutes” seemed a polite way 
of telling people that she was not at home to them. 
She had seen it on the office doors of lawyers; and, 
of course, it must be right. And if folks did come 
back in five minutes, the exercise would do them 
good. Besides, it was dark, and folks could not read 
the card anyhow. You see that Aunt Danby was a 
very conscientious woman. 

The two old ladies, gathered about the little round 
table in the firelight, were lonely without their fav- 
orite, Reginald. It was hard for them or for Mrs. 
Danby to kneel beside the grate and make the toast. 
They were too old for that. 

“But,” said the first old lady as she helped herself 
to the preserved tomatoes, “ I always told you, Mrs. 
Danby, that you ought to have a little girl to wait 
on you. Of course, I am not saying anything against 


74 


THE FLOWER OF THE FL.OCK. 


Reginald : he was almost as good as a girl. Boys, 
even the best of them, are not to be depended on. 
You don’t know when they’ll take a sudden turn.” 

“That sounds ungrateful,” said Mrs. Danby. 
“Just remember, Malvina Ann, how that boy has 
toasted your bread many a time. And I’ve sent him 
out a hundred times for cream when the cat was 
greedy and we ran short; and he never stopped on 
the way once to take a mouthful.” 

“True,” said Malvina Ann Terry; “but I’d rather 
have a little girl here now to wait on us than half a 
dozen boys, that you can’t find when you want 
them.” 

“Accidents will happen,” replied Mrs. Danby; 
“ and this is one of them. Of course nobody that 
isn’t an aunt can be expected to enter into the feel- 
ings of an aunt. Nobody! I have been an aunt for 
so many years that maybe I am different from other 
people of my age.” 

The old ladies said that certainly when one was an 
aunt it made a difference. After tea, they all took 
out their knitting, and began to consider how the 
boys might be found. They came to the conclusion 
that it would not do to send the policemen after 
Miles and Reginald, as that might only frighten 
them. 

What was to be done? Where had they gone? 
Mrs. Danby knew that Reginald would never ven- 
ture “down the Neck,” though she was not sure 
Miles was incapable of it. At any rate, as Reginald 
had taken his rubber shoes, she was sure no harm 
could come to him. 

It might be that the boys had gone to Fairmount, 
and fallen into the Schuylkill River, This was sug- 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


75 


gested by one of the old ladies. But Mrs. Danby 
laughed at it: Reginald had never been known to 
go near the water in his life. Altogether, Mrs. 
Danby did not worry about the boys as other aunts 
might have done. Reginald was so correct, and 
Miles so capable of taking care of himself, that she 
was sure nothing could go wrong. 

Still, the question remained. Where were they? 
How could they be induced to return? It seemed 
to Mrs. Danby that she. could not long stand Reg- 
inald’s absence. And how could the tea-parties go 
on once or twice a week, unless Miles were home to 
tend the shop? For even Miles had his uses. Mrs. 
Danby said several times that there never was such 
a good-hearted boy. But still nobody thought of 
any means of finding him. Malvina Ann declared 
that in her time a watchman was sent out with a bell 
for lost children; but Mrs. Danby said that the city 
had grown too large for that, though no doubt it 
was a good plan. Suddenly a thought occurred to 
her, and she exclaimed: 

“Why not advertise in the Ledger?" 

The old ladies wondered that they had not thought 
of this before. The only thing now was to write the 
form of the advertisement. At last Mrs. Danby 
found a form that suited her. 

Reginald and Miles, return. All is forgiven. 

When this had been looked at from every point of 
view, it was put into an envelope, and laid away 
behind the clock, to be taken up to the office of that 
newspaper on the next day. It was the opinion of 
the three ladies that if the Ledger could not find 
them, nothing could. After this the old ladies went 


76 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


home, Mrs. Danby counted the pennies in the drawer, 
looked after the bolts and bars, and went to bed. 
Having written the advertisement, her mind was 
hopeful. She would not be surprised to find the 
boys waiting to be let in when she awoke in the 
morning. 

A day passed. The boys were sent to bed in the 
attic, through which the wind howled all night. It 
was a very different attic from Mrs. Danby’s laven- 
der-scented place. Her attic was warm, and well- 
lined with all sorts of odds and ends — from the first 
rocking-horse Reginald had played with to the last 
poker that had been broken. In spite of the cold, 
the boys slept. Reginald was pursued all night by 
CiEsar, but Miles had no dreams. 

Molly had appeared at supper, which consisted of 
mush and milk ; but she did not speak. Her eyes 
were red, and she was sent out of the room by Mrs. 
Spinks as soon as she had eaten her last mouthful. 

“Did you whip her?” asked Miles of Mr. Spinks, 
who, with his feet propped up against the front of 
the kitchen stove, had begun to smoke. 

Mr, Spinks looked at Miles in surprise. “Boy,’^ 
he said, “ ask me no questions, and I will tell you no 
lies. I once knew a boy who asked questions. 
What was the consequence? His grave is in the 
cold, cold ground.’’ 

“How was he killed?” asked Miles. 

“ He was not killed by a locomotive, nor yet by a 
runaway horse, nor yet by drowning.” 

“Well,” said Miles, “I don’t care how he was 
killed. Did you whip Molly ? ” 

“That’s my business!” said Mr. Spinks, angrily. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


77 


“And ril whip you if you talk too much. You’ve 
a good home, and no board to pay; and your busi- 
ness is to be grateful.” 

Miles was silent, and Reginald’s heart sank. The 
next morning they were aroused by a great noise 
below them. Mr. Spinks was pounding on the floor 
and calling them. It was dark yet. 

“Turn out, boys!” he said; “turn out! There’s 
two hours’ work before breakfast, and the early 
worm must work here.” 

“ We must run away,” said Reginald. “ I’m afraid 
of that man.” 

“Not at all,” answered Miles; “at least not yet. 
Aunt Danby would not want us to leave that little 
girl to be whipped by him whenever he chooses. I’ll 
stay a while, and see the thing out.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

A SCENE BY THE FIRESIDE. 

MOTHER day passed. Mr. Spinks never spoke 



ii to Molly without threatening her; and Mrs. 
Spinks scolded all the time. The boys did the chores 
about the place, and Mr. Spinks was not too hard 
on them at first. Nevertheless, the life was very 
different from what it had been at home. The 
weather was changeable — half-rain, half-sleet — and 
the boys suffered most from the effects of the cold. 
Reginald’s hands were as red as boiled beets, and 
Miles’ teeth chattered all day long. The wind from 
the Delaware sent the sleet whirling against their 
faces, as they watered the cattle and did all the out- 


78 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


of-door work. How often during that day did they 
wish night would come! 

“ Be the long day ever so long, 

At length it ringeth even-song.” 

The Spinks’ house was not very attractive inside; 
but the big kitchen was warm, and, thanks to Molly, 
it was tidy. The supper, which consisted of mush 
and milk, was soon over; and, to the children’s de- 
light, Mr. and Mrs. Spinks announced their intention 
of going, on Saturday evening, to attend a meeting 
of a society in Philadelphia. Consequently, as the 
ferriage and carfare must be made, and as Mr. 
Spinks said they were very expensive, the family 
could not afford to amuse itself. A large bag of 
carpet-rags was brought out, and the group went 
busily to work in making them into balls. Molly 
was so tired that she fell asleep; and, unluckily, she 
snored. Mr, Spinks raised his head — he had been 
smoking and doing no work — and gave a deep groan. 

“ Idleness ! ” he said ; “ idleness ! How all the good 
people in the world hate idleness! It is the mother 
of misery.” 

He jumped up, seized a knotted stick that stood 
in the corner, and advanced toward Molly. Miles 
was startled; he dropped the ball of rags his stiff 
fingers were trying to wind, and looked helplessly 
at the angry face of the man ; he was too sleepy to 
be sure whether he was in a dream or not. Mr. 
Spinks threw up his arm, with the stick in it, over 
Molly’s unconscious head. 

“Serve her right!” snapped Mrs. Spinks. 

To Miles’ surprise, Reginald, after a look at him, 
rose. “Mr. Spinks,” he said, in a voice that trem- 
bled a little, “you must not hit Molly,” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 79 

Mr. Spinks Lowered his cane and glared at Reg- 
inald. “ Who’s to prevent it, hey?” he asked. 

“ We will — Miles and I ; and we want you to 
know it. Of course,” Reginald continued, “I don’t 
mean to be disrespectful to one older than myself — 
the Catechism says that’s against the Fourth Com- 
mandment: but I feel that I should sin through hu- 
man respect if I allowed you to hit that little girl.” 

Mr. Spinks rolled his eyes. 

Mrs. Spinks cried: “Well, I never!” 

Miles became fully awake. “We won’t work a 
day for you,” he said, “if you whip Molly for noth- 
ing.” 

“I’ll skin you both!” said Mr. Spinks, in a rage. 
“She’s a bound girl, out of an asylum; and I’ll whip 
her if I want to.” 

“I’ll tell the police, then!” exclaimed Reginald. 

“You can’t,” observed Miles. “You ” 

“Yes, I will, even if I go to jail for it. I’ll tell 
the police, Mr. Spinks; and they’ll make you suffer.” 

Molly awoke, and looked about her. Mr. Spinks 
raised his stick again. The little girl uttered a pite- 
ous cry, and threw her hands over her head. 

Reginald forgot himself, and for the moment suf- 
fered all the dread that oppressed Molly. 

“Miles,” he said, earnestly, “we must do some- 
thing.” 

Miles was a clever boy for his years. He saw at 
once that two boys had not the ghost of a chance 
against a man like Mr. Spinks. At the same time 
he knew that Mr. Spinks would think twice before 
he let them go. 

“If you touch Molly with that stick,” he said, 
“ Reginald and I shall leave the house at once.” 


8o 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Mr. Spinks laughed. “You whipper-snapper! 
you midget! I could grind you to powder! “ 

Reginald trembled ; but Miles rather enjoyed this. 
There might be a chance for a fight, and Miles en- 
joyed fighting whenever he could conscientiously 
take a hand on the side of the right. 

“Grind away,” he said; “but don’t touch that 
little girl.” 

Molly rose from her chair, crying. “ Let him 
whip me,” she said; “he can’t do more than kill me. 
And I’d rather be dead. There is no one to be kind 
to me in the whole world — no one! ” 

Mr. Spinks looked at the boys and lowered his 
stick; he could whip Molly at any time, and he felt 
that he had better not force the boys to run away: 
they could be useful to him. 

“I have been a father to that girl,” he said; 
“haven’t I, Mrs. Spinks?” 

His wife nodded. “ Indeed, you have. She’s 
had butter three time o’ week, and rice-pudding o’ 
Sunday.” 

“ And yet she goes to sleep when she ought to 
work ; and upstarts come into my house to tell me 
that I can’t treat her as a father! ” 

Mr. Spinks sat down, and took his pipe; but Reg- 
inald was frightened by the look he gave Molly. 

The kitchen was warm; a cheerful glow shone 
from the open front of the stove; rashers of ham 
and bacon hung from the rafters; and the perfume 
of the dried lavender which Mrs. Spinks was putting 
into bags scented everything. The rain pattered on 
the roof outside; and Reginald thought to himself 
that, in this place, where there were warmth and 
light and plenty, how sad it was that there was not 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


8i 


peace! And he said, in his mind, that people might 
have all the peace they wanted, if they would be 
good and cheerful. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE TEA-PARTY. 

O N Saturday Mr. Spinks and the boys had another 
discussion. They were in the barn. Mr. Spinks 
was cracking walnuts to be sent to one of the mar- 
ket-stalls; Molly was pulling the sprouts from some 
potatoes, and the boys were carrying a large tub of 
food for the cattle toward the stalls, when Mr. 
Spinks looked up. His face was dark, his lips com- 
pressed. 

“ Oh, don’t make him angry to-day! ” Molly said. 
“ He is in one of his bad humors. If you make him 
mad, he might stay at home to-night. ” 

Reginald’s heart sank at this. “ You speak,” he 
said to Miles. 

Miles cleared his throat. ‘‘Mr. Spinks,” he be- 
gan, ‘‘ will you lend us the horse and buggy for a 
while to-morrow? It’s Sunday, you know.” 

‘‘ Whose horse and buggy ? tny horse and buggy ? ” 
asked Mr. Spinks, with a harsh laugh. “ And what 
has Sunday got to do with my horse and buggy ? ” 
‘‘We want to go to church,” answered Reginald, 
seeing that Miles hesitated, for Mr. Spinks’ manner 
was that of an expert bully. To tell the truth, Reg- 
inald’s courage was very low; he was not naturally 
brave, but he was determined that he would meet 
any danger rather than not go to Mass. He was 
6 


82 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


sure that Mr. Spinks wouUi prevent them from cross- 
ing to the Philadelphia side, and the nearest church 
was seven miles away. 

“To church!” exclaimed Mr. Spinks, laughing 
again. “ My horse and buggy don’t go to church, 
for / don’t go.” 

“Oh, don’t aggravate him!” whispered Molly. 
“ I am sure he will never let you go to church.” 

“ The church is seven miles off,” said Miles. “ We 
can’t walk that far and be in time, one of the neigh- 
bors told me yesterday. If we can’t go to church, 
you can do your own work. We’ll find another 
place.” 

Mr. Spinks looked at the boys. Boys that would 
brave him to go to church! he had never met such 
boys before. He tried to force Miles to drop his 
eyes. Miles kept them on him very coolly. But 
Reginald, on whose mind was the shadow of jail, 
lowered his. 

“I guess you’ll change your mind about going to 
church, my boy. I suppose you want to go to the 
Irish church ? ” he remarked, sneeringly. 

“There isn’t any Irish or German or French or 
Italian church: there’s only one Catholic Church,” 
replied Miles. “ There’s where we want to go. And 
if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head ” 

“Miles,” said Reginald, whose privations had 
made him more than usually religious, “ don’t be dis- 
respectful. It’s wrong: it’s against the Fourth 
Commandment.” 

“Don’t you be afraid of my doing anything I’ll 
have to tell in confession!” said Miles. “But if I 
wasn’t a Catholic, Mr. Spinks, I’d make your life a 
burden, for the way you’ve acted. Can I have the 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 83 

horse and buggy to-morrow or not? We must go to 
Mass.” 

Mr. Spinks reflected. He would have given a 
great deal to make his big stick answer Miles. He 
was boiling over with rage. But he had seen Mrs. 
Danby’s advertisement in the morning’s Ledger. 
These boys were good workers, and they seemed to 
be foolish enough to work for nothing. Besides, he 
might be able to get a reward for returning them to 
the address in the paper. But he had no patience 
with them, boys that wanted to go to church! How 
ridiculous! Molly was turning white and red while 
this talk was going on. She had not been in a 
church since she had been in the orphan asylum, and 
she never expected to enter one again. Even if 
Mr. Spinks would have let her go, she had no clothes 
fit to wear. She rejoiced in the attitude of the boys; 
yet she feared Mr. Spinks’ vengeance on them. 

Reginald became a better boy the moment he be- 
gan to forget his own troubles- in the sufferings of 
Molly; and Molly’s better nature controlled her 
more when she forgot her fears for herself, and be- 
gan to fear for others. As for Miles, he had no 
desire now to kill Indians; if he were once home he 
would work, he said, and let no day pass without 
learning something that would make him more power- 
ful. He felt a great desire to help the oppressed. 
As for Reginald, he wondered how he could have 
been so selfish all his life, when there were children 
like Molly in the' world. Ah, if he had no fear of 
the shame of going to jail, how bold he could be! 
But with that fear on him, his hands were tied. He 
resolved that he would never again do anything that 
}ie need conceal. 


84 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Mr. Spinks shook his fist at Molly, and then said 
to the boys; “Yes, you may go; but if the horse 
doesn’t come home in good condition. I’ll break 
every bone in Molly’s body.” 

“Of course you’ll let Molly go to church, too. 
She’s never been to our church, and she might like 
to see it.” 

Miles was amazed at his own boldness. Molly 
gasped. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose so!” answered Mr. Spinks, 
after a pause; “or else you’ll be telling people I am 
cruel. Remember, when you are lying about me, 
that I let you go to church.” 

“Thank you, sir!” said Reginald. 

Mr. Spinks raised his fist; but, seeing that Regi- 
nald was in earnest, he dropped it again. 

That Saturday afternoon was one of great sus- 
pense to the children. Mrs. Spinks brought out her 
velvet bonnet, with great red roses on it, and dusted 
it carefully. At dinner she said she did not think 
she would go, because it “looked like rain.” Miles 
told her he was sure it would clear up; and Reginald 
offered to lend her his rubber shoes. At four o’clock 
the sun came out. 

Miles and Reginald had seen a peddler passing, 
and had bought six lemons, three oranges, and some 
cakes and candy. Molly herself had managed to 
acquire from a neighbor some ounces of tea and a 
loaf of Dutch cake. But if at the last moment Mr. 
and Mrs. Spinks should conclude to stay at home, 
there could be no tea-party. 

Hopes and fears chased one another in the chil- 
dren’s hearts. Would the Spinkses go or stay? 
Reginald put up fervent petitions that they might 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 85 


go; and at last, when all the chores were done, they 
announced that they would go. And little did the 
boys dream that they were going, not to their meet- 
ing, but to see Mrs. Danby! 


CHAPTER XIII. 


MOLLY LEARNS SOMETHING. 



HE departure of Mr. and Mrs. Spinks lifted a 


1 great load from the hearts of the young people; 
and when they had disappeared altogether, Molly 
began to sing at the top of her voice. 

Reginald and Miles had done their chores for the 
night. And as they entered the kitchen, Reginald 
covered his ears with his hands. 

“You must not sing that way,” he said. “Girls 
ought to be nice and quiet.” 

Molly stopped singing and looked at Reginald 
doubtfully. She was about'to “answer back ” when 
he spoke again. 

“Aunt Danby wouldn’t like a girl to sing that way 
about the house. It isn’t ladylike.” 

“The woman in the circus sang that way,” replied 
Molly. 

“Oh, the circus!” remarked Reginald, contempt- 
uously. “That is not the place in which to learn 
good manners; and you can’t get on without good 
manners.” 

Miles in the mean time had filled the shining wash- 
basin from the pump, and had begun to splash his 
face and head with it. Reginald looked at him in 
disgust. 


86 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


“You wouldn’t wash yourself in that way at Aunt 
Danby’s. She wouldn’t let you splash about in her 
kitchen.’’ 

“ Mr. Spinks does it this way.’’ 

“ Mr. Spinks! ’’ said Reginald. “ The idea of copy- 
ing Mr. Spinks! ’’ 

Molly and Miles remained silent. They acknowl- 
edged Reginald’s superiority, though he was more 
afraid of the black bull than either Molly or Miles. 

Reginald and Miles went up to their attic; and, 
with wise forethought, attired themselves in their 
best suits of clothes. Once inside his Sunday gar- 
ments, Reginald felt himself master of the situation. 
Now Mr. Spinks might return and have no terrors 
for him. Thanks to Molly, the boys were able to 
find their precious treasures under a bedstead in the 
spare room. 

Molly, having set the tea-table, attired herself as 
best she could. Her one piece of finery was a bow 
of faded pink ribbon. This graced her hair. A 
plume of turkey feathers nodded above her brow; 
but Reginald remonstrated so strongly against this 
decoration, that she was obliged to take it off. 

The fire was made to burn briskly; and after tea, 
served in a stately manner under Reginald’s direc- 
tion, the children sat about the table cracking wal- 
nuts and drinking lemonade flavored with molasses, 
Mrs. Spinks having locked up the sugar. 

“ She said we might have as much molasses as we 
liked,’’ began Molly. 

“Well, it is better than nothing,” answered Miles. 

“Oh, I think it’s just too lovely,” said Molly. 
“ If they'd only stay away always, I shouldn’t care 
y^hether I was a long-lost dookess or not.” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 87 

“ There’s no place like home, especially when you 
have a home like Aunt Danby’s,” observed Miles. 

Reginald sighed. “ I wonder if we shall ever get 
back again?” he said. ‘‘If we do, Miles, I’ll not 
tell on you, or be so silly again. I didn’t like you 
before this; but now I think you’re a brave, kind 
boy.” 

Miles stretched across the table and took Regi- 
nald’s hand affectionately. 

“You used to be such a sissy, Reginald; but I 
know that you mean well, or else you wouldn’t have 
stood what you have here. I think that if we ever 
get home, we’ll both be better boys.” 

“And what’s to become of me?” asked Molly. 
“ Will I never see your aunt ? ” 

“Don’t say ‘will’: say ‘shall.’ ‘Will’ is never 
used in the first person singular in asking a ques- 
tion,” replied Reginald. 

“ You’re getting sissified again,” said Miles. “ We 
don’t want to hear anything about grammar at pres- 
ent: we want to enjoy ourselves.” 

“Shall I never see your aunt?” asked Molly, 
meekly. 

“When we go, you go,” said Reginald, pulling up 
his clean collar, and feeling very much of a man. 
“We’ll make Mr. Spinks let you go.” 

Molly sighed and shook her head; tears dropped 
into her lemonade. 

“ I wish I had a mother, or even an aunt. I am 
sure I shouldn’t talk back to Mrs. Spinks, or ‘sass’ 
anybody, or whistle, or sing loud, or want to run 
away with a circus,” said Molly. “Of course it 
would be nice to have brothers. Since I have seen 
you, I know there must be some good boys; for 


88 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


you’ve never stuck out your tongue at me once, or 
called me names, or tried to stamp on my feet. But 
it’s a mother I want, or even an aunt.” 

“We all have a Mother in heaven,” Miles said, 
very seriously. “She took care of the Child Jesus, 
and she’ll take care of you, if you ask her. She 
knows all about children; and though, of course, I 
think she must be fondest of boys, still she will look 
after any little girl that loves her.” 

“You mean the Lady whose little statue you gave 
me?” asked Molly. “She has a beautiful face. 
And did she really take charge of the little Child 
Jesus? And was she His Mother?” 

“ Where were you brought up ? ” asked Reginald. 
“ Goodness gracious! where?” 

Molly’s eyes flashed. “ I was brought up as well 
as you.” 

“Oh, now, don’t quarrel!” said Miles. 

“ I went to church in the orphan asylum chapel 
every Sunday,” Molly added; “and I heard all about 
the Bible, but I never heard about the Mother. I 
think they might have told us. It’s hard to be going 
about without a mother when there is one waiting 
for you all the time. I never saw my own mother; 
nobody ever saw her in the asylum. I should like to 
see a good picture of the Child Jesus’ Mother. I 
know all the story about Christmas, of course, and 
the stable; but I never thought she would help us.” 

“She just asks God; and as she is His Mother, 
and took care of Him on earth. He lets her have 
everything she wants for us; and, of course, she 
doesn’t want anything for herself.” 

“Isn’t that nice!” exclaimed Molly. “I didn’t 
think of that ever. It makes heaven seem so near,” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


89 


“And there’s St. Joseph,” said Miles. “ He was 
just like a father to the little Child; he did every- 
thing for Him; he told Him stories at night, and he 
carried Him around in his arms. He knows all 
about the girls and boys, especially boys; and all 
you have to do is to ask him. He gives you every- 
thing you ask for in March, if you’re good.” 

“I’ll go to the Mother for what I want,” said 
Molly. “St. Joseph can’t understand girls as the 
Mother does. Suppose I asked him for a new frock. 
What would he know about it? He might send me 
something I couldn’t wear. St. Joseph may know 
all about boys’ clothes; but if I want anything. I’ll 
ask the Mother. But how do you ask her?” 

“Say the ‘Hail Mary,’ of course,” answered 
Reginald. 

“ I never heard of it. What is it ? ” 

The boys looked astonished. 

“Never heard of the ‘Hail Mary’!” exclaimed 
Miles. “ Why, it’s the prayer, or rather the words, 
the angel said to the Mother when he told her that 
the great God was to be a little Child for us.” 

“Well, I never heard it.” 

There was a pause. Neither of the boys cared to 
repeat the “ Hail Mary ” out loud. They did not ex- 
actly know why. After a while, Reginald said that 
he would write it out for Molly. 

“And when he does,” said Molly, “do you know 
what I shall do? I’ll just pray it as hard as I can — 
not to go to the circus, but to live with your Aunt 
Danby.” 

“Then you couldn’t put brickdust on your face, 
and sing aloud,” answered Miles. 

“You’d have to sit on a chair and sew, and per-. 


90 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


haps make toast at the grate; and she’d make you 
wear a backcomb instead of that ribbon,” said Regi- 
nald. 

“I don’t care for the ribbon,” declared Molly, 
throwing it on the floor. “I’d do anything for a 
hom'e, — a real home.” 

“You wouldn’t throw ribbons about that way,” 
Reginald went on, cracking a nut. “ Not at my 
aunt’s house, oh, no! ” 

“ I shall learn to do what is right. I want to, I 
want to!” Molly cried. “Quick, write out the 
prayer; and I’ll go to church with you to-morrow 
and pray it, — that’s if they’ll let me in, with my old 
clothes.” 

“Oh, we don’t mind clothes at our church! ” said 
Miles, proudly. “We’re mostly all poor people, and 
nobody looks around during Mass; so if we keep in 
the back of the church, people won’t know whether 
you are dressed in rubies and diamonds or not.” 

“ But don’t tell Mr. Spinks what I am going to 
pray for. Don’t, please! He’d try to stop me.” 

“That’s one thing he can’t do,” said Reginald. 
“ You can pray anywhere. And if I couldn’t write a 
word of the ‘Hail Mary,’ you could ask the Blessed 
Mother. But, of course, she likes to hear the words 
of the angel better than common words, just made 
up, with bad grammar in them.” 

“ I don’t think she cares at all about the grammar, 
— in fact, I know she doesn’t,” said Miles. “It’s 
the heart she cares for.” 

“ Well,” continued Molly, stirring more molasses 
into her lemonade, “ I’m going to your Aunt Dan- 
by’s, if prayer can take me there, — and I rather 
think it can,” 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 91 

Reginald found a sheet of paper, and wrote the 
“ Hail Mary ” with a rather greasy lead-pencil. 
Molly put it into her pocket, and began, with a 
lighter heart, to tell the story of Rasselas, which she 
had read somewhere. But Miles would not listen. 
She had to stop; and he had started to tell of a terri- 
ble massacre by Indians in Cherry Valley, when a 
knock sounded at the door. The Spinkses had come 
back. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A FIGURE IN THE MOONLIGHT. 

Q uite unexpectedly, Mr. and Mrs. Spinks returned 
^ home. Although the remains of the feast had 
disappeared, Molly declared that she was too nervous 
to open the door in answer to their knock, so Regi- 
nald shot the bolt, and let in a bar of clear moon- 
light. He started back ; for he saw a figure behind 
Mr. Spinks, and it filled him with terror. He could 
not mistake it: there was even the dab of flour on 
the nose. He knew Hans Gewitz too well: his fig- 
ure had haunted him ever since the fatal night when 
Miles had broken the glass, and he had taken the 
Dutch cake home. It was only a few nights ago, 
but it seemed weeks and weeks away. 

Hans Gewitz disappeared, and Reginald gained 
his senses sufficiently to shut the door after the 
Spinkses. Mr. and Mrs. Spinks seemed to be in a 
cheerful mood. She nodded to the children, sent 
the boys to bed, and made Molly go to the shed for 


92 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCH. 


more wood. As the boys went up to the attic, Miles 
heard her say : 

“Well, Spinks, it means a hundred dollars. The 
old lady isn’t rich, but she’s comfortable, and she 
dotes on ’em.’’ 

“ You’re right, Mrs. Spinks. I guess we’ll have 
roast pork for dinner to-morrow, as things are going 
so well, and a dish of pigs’ feet. Pigs’ feet boiled 
to shreds, with a mealy potato, is a dish for a king.’’ 

Miles cut a double-shuffle on the stairs; he liked 
pigs’ feet. He turned to impart the news to Regi- 
nald; but Reginald shot ahead of him, and threw 
himself on the bed. 

“ It’s come at last. Miles! ’’ Reginald said. “ And 
I’ll have to go to jail. I saw Hans Gewitz just now ; 
he knows where we are. I saw him — hvnself — in the 
moonlight.’’ 

Miles was doubtful, but he answered: “Let him 
come. We’re not afraid of him.’’ 

“ But / am,” continued Reginald. “I don’t want 
to go to jail. Of course I’d rather go to prison than 
work here; but if I was put in jail, auntie would be 
disgraced.” 

“ It is my opinion,” said Miles, “ that Hans Gewitz 
will think twice before he puts you into jail. He 
will not be such a fool as to make an old customer 
like auntie buy her bread somewhere else. I thought 
about that yesterday when I was feeding the cattle.” 

“We 7nust go away,” insisted Reginald. “We 
must walk and walk until even Hans Gewitz can’t 
find us. If I could only spend Christmas at auntie’s, 
I don’t think I should care what happened to me. 
Miles, yesterday when I was piling up the winter 
cabbage, I thought I should die of homesickness, — I 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


93 


really did.” Reginald began to cry. “ I suppose if 
I go to jail, I’ll die there, and never see a Christmas- 
tree again, except in heaven.” 

Miles was touched; he, too, had begun to feel 
symptoms of homesickness. After all, it was a big 
world, and it would take many a weary walk to find 
the Indians and the buffalo. And in the mean time 
Reddy Smith had probably taken his favorite seat on 
the bench at school, and Tom Growly the spot in 
the schoolyard where he liked best to play marbles. 
A great desire to look after these important matters 
filled him, and he tried to find other reasons for 
clearing away Reginald’s fears. 

“But if we go, we shall have to leave Molly; and 
who knows what may happen to her? Mr. Spinks 
will take it out of her, if we go; and I thought you 
promised to stand by her.” 

“Well, I will,” said Reginald, with a deep sigh. 
“ But do you suppose. Miles, that any boy ever 
suffered so much as I have suffered ? ” 

“Lots,” answered Miles, promptly, — “oh, lots! 
How would you like to have your leg broken by a 
street-car? How would you like to fall off a lamp- 
post just on the day the circus came to town? How 
would you like to be blamed for something you didn’t 
do, and see the other fellow praised by everybody, 
and him grinning and making fun of you ? I suffered 
most the day I almost swallowed the jackstone, and 
the whole school jumped up and punched me on the 
back.” 

Reginald shook his head, unconsoled. “Ah,” he 
said, “I shouldn’t mind being punched! People 
think boys have no hearts, — that they don’t suffer ex- 
cept when they’re whipped, or they haven’t enough 


94 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


dinner, or something like that. But grown-ups for- 
get what they suffered when they were boys, and 
they give you a piece of pie or something when your 
heart is almost broken. And they don’t know and 
they don’t care. I am sure no boy ever had the 
sickness inside of him that I have. Auntie thinks 
mint drops or castor-oil can cure anything a boy has; 
but it can’t. Oh, I am so homesick I can’t help 
crying, though I know you’ll call me a sissy.” 

“No, I won’t,” said Miles. 

“ There’s no way out of it all. Oh, I was so bad 
at home! I’ll never do a mean thing again, if I only 
get out of this scrape. But there is no use in talking 
of it. I can’t get out of it, — there is no way.” 

“ There is always a way. God sees ways that we 
don’t see, and He shows them to us when we are 
most gloomy.” 

Reginald said his prayers, and felt comforted. 


CHAPTER XV. 

CMSAR AGAIN. 

I F it had not been for Caesar, Hans Gewitz would 
not have seen Reginald at the door of Mr. 
Spinks’ farm-house; and if Hans Gewitz had not 
seen Reginald, who knows what might have hap- 
pened ? 

When Mr. and Mrs. Spinks started off for Phila- 
delphia, Caesar made up his mind to follow them. So 
far Caesar had made only one friend, — that was Molly ; 
she had been kind to him. But he distrusted Miles 
and Reginald. He had never learned to like boys. 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


95 


because, as he often said to himself, they were pecul- 
iar. When he was a puppy, they had not treated 
him with gentleness. He remembered a time when 
boys had thrown him from one to another as if he 
were a ball. Later, tin kettles had been tied to his 
tail; and his life altogether had been rough and un- 
happy. This was quite enough to sadden — even to 
sour — any dog’s disposition. 

Molly had been kind to him ; and Caesar, who was 
a dog of great experience, noticed that the Spinkses 
were unkind to Molly; consequently he snapped at 
Mr. Spinks whenever he saw him. And when the 
Spinkses started off, he felt that they were after no 
good, and he followed them. The ferry-boat was 
crowded, but he did not mind; he found his way to 
the bow, and waited patiently in a coil of rope until 
the boat touched the wharf with a great jolt. Then 
he jumped off with the Spinkses. 

Mr. and Mrs. Spinks made their way to Mrs. 
Danby’s with some difficulty. At last Mr. Spinks 
opened the green door; the bell jingled, and they 
found Mrs. Danby seated behind her counter. 'I'he 
coal-oil lamp lit up her cheerful face; and she raised 
her head from her knitting, to w^onder whether these 
people wanted gum drops or popcorn. She saw that 
they were from the Neck, and folks from the Neck 
always bought candy for their children. Mrs. 
Danby, at a second glance, concluded that she did 
not like the looks of Mr. and Mrs. Spinks. 

“ We came ” began Mr. Spinks, resting his 

big umbrella against the counter. 

“Oh, I hope that umbrella isn’t wet! I don’t 
allow wet umbrellas in this shop,” interrupted Mrs. 
Danby. 


96 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Mr. Spinks looked at lier. He saw that there was 
no use in trying to bully that little woman. Caesar 
had squeezed himself in just as the door was closed, 
at the risk of being cut in two. At this moment Mrs. 
Spinks, with an air of absent-mindedness, raised the 
lid of a jar, and helped herself to two chocolate drops. 

“One cent!” snapped Mrs. Danby. “I’d be in 
the poorhouse if everybody was to pick up one or 
two cream chocolates.” 

Mrs. Spinks reluctantly fumbled in an old purse 
she carried, and laid one cent on the counter. 

“We came,” Mr. Spinks said, “to speak to you on 
a subject which concerns you. What is the conse- 
quence? You receive us with contumely. I come 
to speak of Reginald and Miles.” 

Mrs. Danby dropped her knitting. Her face 
changed. She became polite at once. 

“Oh, come into the back-room! I’m almost 
ashamed to ask you: everything is upside-down, as 
I don’t have time to house-clean more than three 
times a year. And I couldn’t do any sweeping this 
week, as I have been so worried. You can tell what 
the feelings of an aunt are! ” 

“ I am an uncle myself,” replied Mr. Spinks, notic- 
ing the glowing grate, the brass candlesticks on the 
mantelpiece, the red table-cloth, and the pots of 
geranium in the window. “ I have a dear little girl 
at home. She is almost a niece to me; in fact, Mrs. 
Spinks is a mother to her.” 

Mrs. Danby looked at Mrs. Spinks, and felt glad 
she was not a mother to her Reginald. 

The Spinkses settled themselves comfortably on 
the sofa. Mrs. Spinks took off the stockings she had 
drawn over her shoes. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


97 


“ It’s not raining, or snowing, or hailing, ” she said ; 
“ but when I go out, I like to be prepared for any- 
thing.” 

“I may as well say,” began Mr. Spinks, “that 
your boys are safe and well; but of course I can’t, 
being a hard-working man, undertake to tell you 
where they are unless I am paid for it.” 

“ They are safe and well ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Danby. 
“I am so glad! Has Reginald kept the porous- 
plaster on his chest, and does he take his tonic three 
times a day. He can’t be well unless he does those 
things. Now, where is he?” 

“Be careful, Ferdinand! ” Mrs. Spinks said, warn- 
ingly. 

“Trust me,” replied her husband. 

Then turning to Mrs. Danby: “ He is safe. I will 
not say that he will be safe long. Something may 
happen to him, — something dreadful.” He shook his 
head. “ I will return him for sixty-six and two-thirds 
dollars, or a hundred for the two.” 

“ How much do you want for Miles?” 

“ Thirty-three and a third dollars,” said Mr. Spinks. 
“ He is not worth as much to you as the other.” 

Mrs. Danby looked closely at Mr. Spinks. The 
door-bell jingled. 

“ Excuse me,” she said. 

Hans Gewitz was in the shop. He came to ask 
anxiously for the boys; he said that if they were 
really lost, he would never forgive himself. 

“Just you wait here.” 

“A hundred for both,” Mr. Spinks repeated, as 
Mrs. Danby went back into the little room. 

“I’ll think about it,” said Mrs. Danby. “Come 
again on Tuesday.” 

7 


98 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Mrs. Spinks took some time in putting the stock- 
ings over her shoes again. Mrs. Danby would say 
nothing more. 

As they went out, Mrs. Danby whispered to Hans 
Gewitz: “Follow them!” He tried to, but lost 
them near the ferry. However, he saw Caesar in the 
crowd, and kept close to that wise dog; and in this 
way he reached the Spinkses’ farm-house, after a 
weary journey. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

AT MASS. 

R eginald and Miles were up early the next 
morning. They went to the stable before 
breakfast, and cleaned the carriage. Miles agreed 
to drive. It was a roomy, two-seated wagon, called 
a “Germantown.” Molly was up too; she prepared 
breakfast. Just as they were about to sit down to 
the table Mr. Spinks appeared. His forehead was 
puckered into a frown. It had suddenly occurred to 
him that the boys might have written to their aunt; 
and that, in spite of her apparent interest, she really 
knew where they were. 

“Did you write to your aunt, boys?” Mr. Spinks 
asked, frowning on them like an ogre. 

“Yes, I did,” answered Reginald. 

“ Did you tell her where you are?” 

“ How could I ? ” asked Reginald. “ I don’t know 
myself. There’s no street on your farm, and no 
number on your house.” 

“That’s all right,” said Mr. Spinks, clearing his 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


99 


brow. “ As it is Sunday, you may have flapjacks. 
Mrs. Spinks,” he called out, “will you make some 
flapjacks? ” 

Mrs. Spinks appeared, went to the stove, and very 
soon the children were supplied with hot cakes and 
molasses. With a timid look at Mr. Spinks, Molly 
ran upstairs to get a faded green shawl and a bat- 
tered red bonnet a neighbor had given her. When 
she came down Mr. Spinks frowned at her, and she 
trembled. 

“Who is going to get the dinner, if you go to 
church ? ” he asked. 

“Mrs. Spinks can get dinner ready, can’t she?” 
asked Miles. 

“But you needn’t expect any,” growled Mr. 
Spinks. 

Molly looked imploringly at Miles; he saw the 
tears in her eyes. She said; 

“ Oh, I can stay at home, if you don’t want me to 
go! ” 

“Very well,” said Miles. “If you don’t go, we 
shall find somebody else to work for, — that’s all.” 

“And if you can’t feed us, we will not work,” 
added Reginald, gaining courage. 

“All right, all right!” said Mr. Spinks, backing 
out. “ But if you take my trap to church. I’ll knock 
off ten cents from your wages to pay for it.” 

The boys smiled, and made their way to the stable. 
At the last moment, just as Molly was placed in the 
back seat, Mrs. Spinks announced that she would go 
too. 

“I declare, Ferdinand,” she said, “I haven’t had 
any recreation for ten years. As going to church 
doesn’t cost anything, I just guess I’ll go.” 


lOO 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


“But how about the dinner?” asked Mr, Spinks, 
frowning again. 

“ There’s pork and beans in the house, and pie. 
And you can just keep the coffee warm for us,” she 
replied, going into the house to put on her bonnet 
and shawl. 

Molly looked at her with admiring eyes. To think 
of anybody daring to talk to Mr. Spinks in that way ! 

The party drove off. Just before they started Mr. 
Spinks whispered to his wife; 

“ I think we had better send these young chaps up 
the river to-morrow, so that they’ll be out of the 
way if anybody has found out where they are. And 
you ought to whip that Molly black and blue when 
she comes home. I have treated her as a daughter. 
What is the consequence ? She gives us impudence.” 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Spinks; “ very well. I’ll 
settle her when I come back. If you get hungry be- 
fore dinner-time, you’ll find the doughnuts in the 
tin boiler. And mind,” she screamed, as the car- 
riage drove off, “don’t let the kettle boil dry! ” 

Mrs. Spinks soon showed that she was out for en- 
joyment. She kindly offered each of the young peo- 
ple a mint drop. 

“I declare,” she said, “I’m all agog. I am fond 
of all kinds of odd things, and I guess I’ll be aston- 
ished at your church. I hope they will not say any- 
thing to hurt my feelings. A soothing sermon always 
gave me an appetite for dinner when I used to go to 
church ; and if I should have my nerves unsettled, 
I’d be like a wet rag.” 

Reginald was afraid she would hear Miles whisper: 
“ I wish she could go to a mission sermon , — that 
would settle her,” 


THE FLOWER OF TI/E FLOCK. 


lOI 


The farther they got from Mr. Spinks, the higher 
their spirits rose; and Mrs. Spinks became quite jolly 
as they went onward. She showed a tendency to 
stop and talk to neighbors; but Miles could not per- 
mit this, for fear of being late. Reginald’s tongue 
was unloosened; they all talked, and it seemed as if 
a very short time had passed when they reached the 
church. 

It was a frame structure, with a glittering cross on 
its spire. Mass had just begun. A number of chil- 
dren were singing the Litany of the Blessed Virgin. 
Miles tied the horse to a post — there were several 
in front of the church — and led the way to an empty 
pew, under a stained-glass window representing St. 
Elizabeth of Hungary, with her apron full of roses. 

Molly’s eyes were at once fixed on the crucifix 
above the tabernacle. She knew what it meant, 
though she had never seen one before. At the 
orphan asylum she had heard the story of Our Lord’s 
birth, passion, and death ; but she had never fdt 
what it meant before. She understood all about it 
now. And there, at the side, was the benignant 
Mother, in a white robe and blue mantle, with her 
head crowned with stars. Molly felt that she was at 
home at last. Everything spoke of the lessons she 
had learned in her Bible. There was a picture of 
Abraham and Isaac over the altar. The solemn 
movements of the priest kept her attention. She 
was awestruck. She had never seen anything like it 
before. She said her prayers over and over again, 
and it seemed to her as if the ceremonies of the Mass 
were like magnificent music accompanying them. 

Mrs. Spinks settled herself comfortably in the pew. 
She began by asking Miles a question in a loud voice. 


T02 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Miles put his finger on his lip, and did not answer. 
She was inclined to resent this at first, but soon she 
became absorbed in the ceremonies. They made 
her feel queer, she said; there was something about 
them that made her think of death. She shivered as 
the Sanctus bell rang, and felt alone and deserted as 
every head, even Molly’s, was bowed at the Conse- 
cration. 

After Mass the priest said a few words about the 
necessity of going to confession. Mrs. Spinks did 
not fully understand, but she began to think of her 
sins and to feel like crying, 

Reginald had prayed with all his might during 
Mass. He was almost in despair: he saw no way 
out of the darkness; it did not seem to him as if any 
power could save him, except by a miracle. He 
thought of the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt, 
— there was a picture of it just opposite his seat. He 
remembered that Our Lord had been a wanderer; 
but, then, he knew also that St. Joseph and the 
Blessed Virgin were with him. Ah, if he could only 
have his aunt with him! Again he called to mind 
the fact that he was not alone. Were not the mem- 
bers of this Holy Family always with him? He 
sighed, and said: “Thy will be done!’’ It was hard 
to be away from home, — harder for Reginald than 
for most boys, because he had been so much at home. 

Mrs. Danby had not educated him to rely on him- 
self. Now, boys must learn to trust themselves, to 
overcome obstacles, to correct their own faults. 
Until lately, Reginald had always been dependent 
on others; now he found it very hard to be deprived 
of his support. But even his short and unpleasant 
experience at Mr. Spinks’ had made him manlier. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 103 

He looked at life in a different way now: he saw 
that all the little, mean ways he had acquired must 
be dropped, if he ever expected to be a man. He 
hated to think of the unpleasant things he had said 
about Miles. When he looked back he blushed to 
remember how unkind he had been to him, — how 
proud, how full of disdain for the boys who wore 
rough clothes and did not take care of them. 

All this had passed through his mind many times 
during the last few days. All he could do now was 
to pray. He hoped with all his heart that God 
would help him, but he could see no light ahead. 
And yet when Mass was ended he found himself re- 
peating over and over again the words: “ Lamb of 
God, give us peace! ” 

Miles, too, had prayed with fervor; but he had 
asked for strength of mind and body to do good in 
the world — to protect the weak and to help the poor. 

Molly prayed, but with only one purpose: to get 
away from the Spinkses. Oh, if she only had a 
home like those little girls who were singing so 
sweetly, life would be happy! If she could only 
come every Sunday into a church like this, with its 
bright candles and beautiful pictures, she would be a 
new girl, and never wish to run away to the circus. 
This church, humble as it might have appeared in 
your eyes, was splendid in hers. The pictures on 
the walls were chromos; the stained glass was not 
the kind one sees in great cathedrals; but what did 
Molly know or care? Everything was beautiful; 
and when it was all done, she sank back with a sigh. 

They went out with the crowd. There was some 
delay in getting the horse. Father Delaney, passing 
out, put his hand on Molly’s head, — choosing her be- 


104 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCA'. 

cause she was the most poorly dressed of all the 
children about. 

“Did you sing loud?” he asked; “did you sing 
loud, little one ? ” 

“I did not know the words, sir,” Molly answered, 
looking up at the kind face, framed in white hair. 

He smiled, and gave her a little picture of the 
Blessed Virgin. Molly thanked him politely, and 
her face lit up with such pleasure that he gave her 
another. 

“That’s for your mother,” he added, passing on. 

Tears came to Molly’s eyes. She turned, and gave 
the picture to Mrs. Spinks, who looked at it carefully 
through her spectacles; she was highly gratified by 
Molly’s attention. 

“ Dear, dear! ” she said. “ Did he really give you 
this for nothing? What fine lace there is about the 
edges! A picture of the Mother of Jesus, — and very 
beautiful. I shall certainly come again.” 

Mrs. Spinks was in high good-humor; she had 
been afraid that the sermon would take away her 
appetite, but on reaching the carriage she declared 
that she was hungry enough to eat anything. 

The drive home was enhanced by various stories 
told by Mrs. Spinks of her experience at camp-meet- 
ings. The children were silent. When they reached 
the stable yard, Reginald suddenly grasped Miles’ 
arm. Miles looked up. In front of the door stood 
Hans Gewitz in company with Mr. Spinks. 

“I shall make for the woods; let me out of the 
carriage! — let me out!” cried Reginald. 

Before Miles could stop him, he had jumped to 
the ground. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


105 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A BATTLE. 

R eginald fled toward the wood, and Miles and 
Molly called after him ; but he was a good run- 
ner, and fear lent wings to his feet. The pagan god 
Mercury, whose feet, according to the old stories, 
were really winged, could not have gone faster. 
CjEsar, yelping and barking, followed him. 

Miles would have gone too; but how could he? 
For there, as large as life, as pleasant-looking as 
ever, appeared Mrs. Danby. She hugged him and 
kissed him several times. There was no doubt about 
it, she was glad to see him. 

“ Where is Reginald ? ” she asked. 

“He has run away,” answered Miles, holding 
Molly by the hand, and waiting for a chance to in- 
troduce her to Mrs. Danby. 

“ Run away! ” cried his aunt, “run away from me! 
What does it mean ? ” 

“ He caught sight of Mr. Gewitz, and of course he 
thought he would put him in jail, so he ran away. 
If he had seen you, I am sure he’d have come back.” 

“ Did he have his tonic and his porous-plaster with 
him?” asked Mrs. Danby of Mr. Spinks, who stood 
near. Mr. Spinks frowned. Mrs. Danby looked at 
him as she was in the habit of looking at little boys 
who asked for a cent’s worth of cream cocoanut * — a 
precious article of which she “made” no less than 
three cents’ worth. “I asked, sir,” she repeated, 

* I am informed that this delicious substance, which used to 
look like white lead, and filled one’s mouth with sticky sweet- 
ness, is no longer known to the young. 


IOt> 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


“ if my nephew was permitted to go to church with- 
out his tonic, his rubber shoes — I believe you Neck- 
ers call them ‘gums,’ — or his porous-plaster?” 

“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Mr. Spinks, 
awed by her manner. ” But I think you’ve played a 
mean trick on me. Here I’ve fed and taken care 
of these boys like a father, when they were cast 
out into a cold, cruel world; and what is the conse- 
quence ? ” 

“I don’t care about the consequence,” said Mrs. 
Danby. “ If you want to ask questions, go to the 
city directory or find a policeman. If Reginald has 
forgotten to take his tonic, or left off his porous-plas- 
ter, or dropped his gums, he’ll come back for them, 
I am sure; so we need not worry. There was never 
such a conscientious boy. Who’s this?” 

“ Molly,” said Miles, dragging the little girl to his 
aunt. 

Mr. Spinks scowled at Molly and shook his fist. 
But Mrs, Danby had not for so many years kept an 
eye on the tray of “ yellow jack ” and another on the 
box of peanuts for nothing. There were those who 
said that she had eyes in the back of her head. 
Miles was not sure of it. At any rate, she turned to 
Mr. Spinks just as he had lowered his fist. 

Mrs. Spinks approached at this moment. 

“ Ferdinand,” she said, “let these people go; do 
not excite yourself over their impudence. They are 
no better than Hessians. Make way, while I pre- 
pare the noonday repast,” she added, with a stern, 
cold air that made Molly tremble. 

Mrs. Danby took Molly’s hand in hers; she looked 
at Mrs. Spinks with equal sternness. 

“ I suppose you mean dinner, /don’t smell any- 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. lo/ 

thing cooking. It’s my candid opinion, ma’am, 
that you’re not much of a housekeeper.” 

Mrs. Spinks almost reeled under this blow; she 
clutched at her heart with one hand and turned pale 
to think that this strange woman might find out that 
there was nothing in the house for dinner but cold 
pork and beans. 

“I shudder,” continued Mrs. Danby, “when I 
think what my Reginald must have endured in this 
place. And he used to everything ! ” 

“Molly,” said Mrs. Spinks appealingly, “don’t 
we feed you well ? ” 

“Butter three times a week,” murmured Molly; 
“and I’m allowed to have dripping on my bread on 
the other days, if I do all the chores by five o’clock. 
And once,” she added, anxious to please everybody, 
“we had lemon pie; but Mrs. Spinks thought it was 
too rich for me.” 

Mrs. Danby smiled. Molly saw that she had 
made a mistake, and clung closely to that good lady. 

“ I don’t wonder, child, that you are all skin and 
bones,” she said. “And what’s that scar on your 
forehead? Oh, I see!” 

Molly reddened, and tried to hide the scar with 
her hand. Miles thought it was time to speak. 

“ Aunt, you always said you wanted a little girl. 
Why not take Molly ? ” 

Mr. Spinks took Miles by the shoulder, and gave 
him a blow that made his head swim. He rushed at 
Molly with an outstretched fist, and would have hit 
her if Hans Gewitz had not put out his foot and 
tripped the angry man; he fell to the ground. Mrs. 
Spinks helped him up, and brushed the dust off his 
coat. 


Io8 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

“Ungrateful child!” he said. “Wait till I get a 
chance at you when these invaders go! You know 
you are only a bound girl.” 

Molly turned white, and clung more closely to 
Mrs. Danby. 

“You will not get a chance, Mr. Spinks. No, sir, 
no chance!” exclaimed Mrs. Danby. “ Bound girl 
or no bound girl, that child shall not be whipped by 
you for nothing. Don’t frown at me! You are 
going to talk about the law. Now, I know all about 
the law; and there’s no law in this country that 
obliges me to leave a child in cruel hands, — no, sir; 
and no, ma’am, — I say it. And I think Mr. Gewitz 
knows I mean what I say.” 

Hans Gewitz nodded. “ Mrs. Danby always means 
what she says.” 

“I. will have the law of you, ma’am,” said Mr. 
Spinks, red with anger. “ How dare you threaten 
me on my own farm ? ” 

“I don’t threaten anybody,” answered Mrs. 
Danby, “no, sir; but I shall take this poor child 
home with me just the same. I don’t like the looks 
of that cut on her head, and I don’t think she is 
dressed warmly enough for this climate. As sure as 
I am Mrs. Danby, she shall spend some time with 
me. I’ll take her for a visit, sir; and when the law 
allows you to come for her, you can have her back. 
I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I will say that 
the moment I set eyes on you I disliked your looks.” 

“It is no use to take me with you,” said Molly, 
bursting into tears, — “ no use in the wide world, — no 
use at all. They will only treat me worse when I go 
back.” 

“Do not worry,” replied Mrs. Danby. “If you 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 109 

go back, they will take better care of you than they 
have hitherto done.” 

“And 1 have been a father to her,” said Mr. 
Spinks; “and that is the way she talks! Oh, my, — 
oh, me! The best castor-oil given her when she was 
ill, and fried mush whenever she asked for it: 

“ ‘ How thankless than a serpent’s sting it is 
To have a toothless child — ’ 

I mean a thankless child ! ” 

Mrs. Spinks consulted with her husband, but they 
concluded not to interfere with Molly. Mr. Spinks 
scowled at her as she went off, with Mr. Gewitz and 
Mrs. Danby on each side of her, and Miles bringing 
up the rear. 

“Remember, ungrateful child,” Mrs. Spinks cried 
out, “ that you are not to expect the pink silk dress 
or the diamond earrings I intended to give you on 
your birthday. But Mr. Spinks and I will come for 
you as soon as we can see the officers of the law.” 

Mrs. Danby took no notice of this parting shot. 
Two red spots burned in her cheeks. She looked at 
Molly’s thin face and tear-reddened eyes, and she 
felt very angry with the Spinkses. She took Molly’s 
hand in hers, and clasped it warmly. 

“ Do not be afraid, my dear. You shall have a 
home, and a good one. Don’t cry. These people 
will have to deal with me.” 

Molly felt comforted. She raised her head, like a 
flower touched by April rain. She said to herself 
that her prayer in the church was already answered. 

Hans Gewitz had a carriage waiting for them at 
the corner of the road. They reached the ferry in 
good time, and Molly enjoyed the voyage very 
much ; she stood in the front of the boat with Miles, 


1 10 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


and he showed her a whale in the Delaware, — or at 
least it might have been a whale, if it had not turned 
out to be a log. 

When they reached Mrs. Danby’s house, Molly 
was a little shy; but she soon became very much at 
home under the influence of Mrs. Danby’s kindness. 
She helped to get dinner, and made herself so useful 
that Mrs. Danby said to Hans Gewitz that she was 
almost as “ handy ” as Reginald. 

Miles saw with joy all the old familiar things. 
The roast beef and baked potatoes were just right; 
but he could not eat. He was worried about Regi- 
nald. He knew very well that his aunt was wrong 
about the tonic, the rubbers, and the porous-plaster; 
for Reginald had lost the bottle with the medicine in 
it, and he had the rubber shoes and the porous-plas- 
ter with him. Miles did not dare to tell his aunt 
this: he was afraid it would take away her appetite. 

“What is the matter?’’ Mrs. Danby asked of 
Miles. 

“Oh, nothing — much! Aunt, if you don’t mind, 
I think I’ll go to look for Reginald.’’ 

“ Nonsense, child ! ’’ answered his aunt. “What 
has come over you ? Not long ago you had not very 
much interest in your cousin, had you?’’ 

“ It’s different now. Reginald is a manly boy, 
aunt, when you know him. And all the foolishness 
is knocked out of him. He wanted to get away 
from the Spinkses just as bad as he could; but he 
would not desert Molly.’’ 

“He will come back,” Mrs. Danby said. “I ex- 
pect him every minute. Reginald was frightened, of 
course, at first; but when he returns to the Spinkses’, 
and finds I was there, he’ll come back, never fear. 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


1 1 1 


He knows the way to the ferry, and he’ll find his 
way home when he knows Hans Gewitz is not going 
to put him into jail.” 

Mrs. Danby put a portion of the dinner between 
two hot plates on the stove, and went to Vespers 
with Miles and Molly. She hurried home, expecting 
to find Reginald waiting for her. As she came near 
her own door, she fancied she saw him ; but no — it 
was only a boy looking through the glass door at the 
candy within. Darkness fell, and still Reginald did 
not come. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE WOOD. 

R eginald rushed through the stubble as if 
Hans Gewitz were at his heels. Had he caught 
sight of Mrs. Danby, he would have gone to her at 
once; but he had seen Hans Gewitz — only Hans 
Gewitz — and terror filled him. He had no doubt that 
Mr. Spinks and Hans had put their heads together 
to get him into jail. His feet sank deep into the 
soggy soil. He lost one of his precious rubber shoes, 
but he dared not turn back for it. The other soon 
followed; he remembered with satisfaction that the 
porous-plaster could not come off. He heard Caesar 
yelping behind him, and he redoubled his pace, not 
thinking of his health at all after that. 

Over dry mullein stalks, and withered Jamestown 
weeds, and stumps of cabbages he flew, until he 
reached the wood near the bank of the river. The 
trees surrounded a deserted house, and were the only 


I 12 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


trees in the neighborhood; they had stood for many 
years, and were close together. The wind or rain or 
snow hardly entered this thick grove. Reginald 
waded knee-deep in last year’s leaves. Moss — thick, 
green, soft moss — made cushions around the roots of 
the old trees. At the foot of one of these trees he 
threw himself, exhausted. Coesar stood near him. 
Now, Caesar was a very cunning dog, soured in dis- 
position by unpleasant experiences; but he had noth- 
ing against Reginald, so he watched him with 
sympathy, and after a while went up and licked his 
hand. 

Reginald was startled. But as he raised his head 
he saw that Caesar meant well; though one would 
scarcely think so from the expression of his face, 
which was always bad. Caesar’s sympathy gave him 
some comfort, though it did seem to him as if he 
were the most wretched boy in all the world. 

If he had only some place to go! But where? 
At home, there was the jail. His brother Jack was 
at sea, his brother Samuel in Chicago — which to 
Reginald seemed a far-off place, where the buffalo 
chased the Indians, and the Indians the buffalo. 
His brother Arnold was in Maine; and Reginald had 
seen a map of Maine in Mitchell’s Geography, and 
he did not like the looks of it. It was pea-green on 
the map, with a dash of blue in it. 

Miles would never find him ; he could never see his 
aunt again; he was lost. He made up his mind to 
one thing as he lay on the moss — that he would 
never do anything which he might be ashamed to 
own before the world. He was innocent of any 
harm to Hans Gewitz, and yet what dreadful things 
had come upon him! If he had been guilty, how 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 113 

much more dreadful it would have been! Things 
were bad enough; but, at least, he could look people 
in the face, and know that he had done nothing 
wrong. Still, what if they should know that the 
jail was waiting for him ? He shuddered as he 
thought of that. 

He became chilled, in spite of his overcoat; he 
stood up and stamped his feet. Just then Caesar 
began to bark loudly. Reginald tried to hush him; 
but he would not be hushed. 

The truth was that Caesar’s heart was touched by 
the evident sadness of Reginald. There is some 
good in every dog. But dogs, as you know, become 
so suspicious from ill-treatment that they will run 
away if a boy but stoop as if he were about to throw 
a stone, though there may be no stones anywhere. 
Caesar had formerly lived in Detroit, and had a twin 
brother of the same name, that had belonged to a 
little girl called Josephine. He had died, and some- 
how or other the sadness of Reginald brought to his 
mind the memory of that long-lost brother. He 
howled; and in answer there came back to him a 
sound of grumbling — or perhaps it was snoring. 
Caesar barked with all his might. There was a rus- 
tling in the dry leaves, and Reginald saw — his eyes 
had become used now to the gloom of the wood — the 
figure of a man lying at the foot of a tree; he was 
wrapped in a big overcoat, and had a fur cap drawn 
down over his ears. He opened his eyes and looked 
curiously at the dog and the boy. 

“Why, I have been asleep!” he said; “haven’t 
I ? Did you happen to see a hundred-dollar bill 
lying about anywhere? Because if you did it is 
mine, and you had better give it up.” 

8 


1 14 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

The man jumped from the ground, and brushed 
the dust and leaves from his coat. 

“You are an honest boy," he added, “I see by 
your face; and I can see that you wouldn’t take a 
man’s pocket-book while he is asleep. But I wouldn’t 
trust your dog ; he has a bad look, — a very bad look. ’’ 

“ He is a good dog," said Reginald; “ he sticks to 
people in trouble.’’ 

“ I went to sleep here, because the dry leaves were 
the softest bed I could find. I am a sailor,’’ the 
man went on; “but I wanted to come ashore a while 
to see my people, and here I am. I sold my brig, 
and I am going to leave the money I have ashore; 
but I don’t like the smell of fresh water. I am going 
back to sea as soon as I can. Would you like to be 
a sailor?’’ asked the man, looking with interest into 
Reginald’s face. It seemed to him as if he had seen 
it before. 

“I don’t know,’’ Reginald answered. “I don’t 
think I should, if I had anything else to do. Do 
you want a sailor ? ’’ 

The man laughed. “ I hardly think you look 
much like a sailor, — though I must say you seem to 
be like somebody I have seen before; and I like 
your looks. What is your name ? ’’ 

“I don’t care to tell, sir, if you please,’’ said Regi- 
nald, with a blush. “ I am not ashamed of my 
name, but there are reasons why I do not want to 
have it known. You won’t mind, I hope, sir. I am 
very much obliged to you for asking it, — I am 
indeed.’’ 

The man looked at Reginald and smiled. 

“ I like polite boys; they are scarce. Nevermind; 
if you go to sea you can call yourself anything you 


THE FLOWER OF THE FI.OCK. 


”5 


like. I’ll call you Jim Smith; will that do? And 
when I’ve found my folks, and given them the pot 
of money I have, you can go with me to sea, and be 
my cabin-boy.” 

Reginald’s heart sank; but he felt that he must do 
something to avoid Hans Gewitz. 

“ Can they take sailors to jail ? ” he asked, 
anxiously. 

“ Give me plenty of sea-room and a smart breeze, 
my lad, and I’d let ’em take me — if they could.” 

“Would you take Caesar, too, if he wants to go?” 

The sailor laughed out this time. 

“He hasn’t any home — he’s like me,” said Regi- 
nald. 

The man looked closely at him; and again he im- 
agined he had seen him before. 

“ Your dog has an evil eye; but he can come, too, 
if he wants to. I shall not ask any questions now, 
except one. Are your parents alive? ” 

“ No, sir,” answeied Reginald. “ I am an orphan. ” 

“Poor boy! In that case you had better let me 
look after you. I am going to see my folks in Phil- 
adelphia; you can come with me. After that we’ll 
go off to New York, find a likely craft, and then for 
the blue salt sea! ” 

“ And a sailor can’t be put in jail ? ” 

The man looked at Reginald closely again. But 
the boy’s appearance disarmed his suspicions. 

“ If he committed murder he might; but not if he 
broke a window or ” 

“Don’t speak of it!” said Reginald. “Who told 
you ? ” 

The man smiled. “ You will not be put in jail, 
young man, if you go with me.” 


Il6 THE FLOWER OF THE FI.OCK. 

“Very well,” said Reginald; “I’ll go. But you 
must let me stay here until you see your people in 
Philadelphia. I must stay in this wood until it gets 
dark; for I am afraid I may meet some folks I 
know.” 

The man looked thoughtful for a moment. “You 
can stay here until it is dark. I’ll go over to the 
farm-house there and get something to eat. I’ll 
bring it to you ; and, when it is too dark to be recog- 
nized, you can come over to Philadelphia and stay 
somewhere while I go to see my people. I’ve a 
brother about your age, and I’ll bring him to see 
you. You can stay at a hotel or wait on the corner 
while I visit.” 

“Thank you,” said Reginald, but with a heavy 
heart. “And may I ask your name?” 

“Tit for tat,” said the man, with a laugh. “My 
name is — Jack Tar. All sailors are called Jack 
Tars.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Tar,” answered Reginald. He 
drew his overcoat about him, and leaned against a 
tree. The man went across the stubble toward 
Spinkses’ house. He soon returned, bearing a can 
of coffee and a basket containing pork, baked beans, 
and brown bread. 

“I think I bought their dinner of those people,” 
the sailor said, laughing; “but I paid them well for 
it. They told me that they had lost a boy and girl, 
whom they had treated as their own children. They 
are hunting for the boy, and Mr. Spinks — that’s the 
man’s name — says the boy is most ungrateful, and 
that he did not even say good-by.” 

Reginald shuddered. But the coffee was good — 
Mrs. Spinks had made it specially, — and he soon for- 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 117 

got his fears in listening to the stories of Mr. Jack 
I'ar. 

“ If you could choose for yourself, what would you 
like to do?” asked the man, when he had finished 
the story of the cabin-boy who had seen a ghost that 
turned out to be a white shark, which a sailor had 
painted one day when he saw the fish lying asleep on 
the water. 

“ I should like to stay at home, with my aunt, 
until Miles and I could earn and save enough money 
to go to college; and then work for her.” 

“You would? But why can’t you go home to 
your aunt ? ” 

“Oh, don’t ask me! I can’t,” Reginald said, 
giving a huge piece of pork to Caesar. “ I must go 
to sea with you.” 

“ I’ll find out what this means,” said Mr. Jack Tar 
to himself. “ A boy with such good manners and 
such an honest face cannot have done anything very 
wrong.” 

Caesar took to Mr. Tar, and they ran several races, 
— the dog always beating. But when it came Regi- 
nald’s turn to run a race, Caesar let him beat him, 
because he was sorry for him. 

The afternoon drew to a close; twilight came. 
And then Mr. Tar, Reginald, and Caesar started for 
the city. Ah, the beloved city, so soon to be left 
behind forever! Tears filled Reginald’s eyes as he 
stood in the bow of the boat, and watched the foam- 
ing water divided by it. 

Mr. Tar took him to the Merchants’ Hotel, and 
asked for a room. 

“You can stay here,” he said, “until I come for 
you. And keep Caesar, too,” 


1 18 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


Reginald and Cffisar had supper together in the 
room; and after that Reginald read an old copy of 
“ Poor Richard’s Almanac. ” A long time passed ; he 
dozed, and so did Caesar. Then they heard Mr. 
Tar’s voice: 

“Wake up! wake up! if you want to be a sailor 
and get away from dry land.” 

Reginald’s heart was like lead; but he bravely 
stood up and answered : 

“ Ready ! 


CHAPTER XIX. 


FLIGHT. 



ES, Reginald was very sad ; a great weight lay 


1 on his chest. Some of you have felt it on the 
first morning after a long vacation, when the school- 
bell rang, and you knew it was really the school-bell. 
But after a time, in the excitement of the first morn- 
ing at school, you wondered why you had awakened 
with such a feeling of dreariness about you. After 
all, school was not so bad! 

But Reginald’s horror of what was to come in- 
creased as he thought about it. The sea! — how he 
hated the sea, which was full of pirates and sharks, 
and all sorts of terrible things! He had been 
taken to bathe in it once, and the salt had got into 
his eyes and made his ears tingle; since that time he 
was willing to believe anything bad of it. 

He sat in the little square room, where a fire had 
been made by Mr. Tar’s orders, and thought the 
whole matter over with a sinking heart. Why should 


THE F/.OWER OF THE FLOCK. 119 

he not go back, and boldly say to Hans Gewitz, “ I 
am innocent. Put me in jail, if you will; but I am 
innocent ”? He was afraid to do this. It would be 
a disgrace to be put into jail; but, then, his aunt 
would not mind it, he was sure, if she could only see 
him. Then his pride rose. What! he, Reginald 
Danby, the best boy in the neighborhood, in jail! — 
the boy whom his aunt had called “ The flower of the 
flock”! No: he could not “ face the music,” as Miles 
would say. On the other hand was the sea. Mr. 
Tar seemed kind; but he had read a great deal about 
the sufferings of sailors; and he had seen at school 
many boys who had made long journeys by water. 
Their fathers were sailors. The sea or jail ? Regi- 
nald shuddered. Well, at any rate, he could do his 
duty and obey orders at sea ; and, in that case, 
nobody could put him into jail. But what was his 
duty now? To go home to his aunt, his conscience 
said, and to trust to her direction; for, after all, 
grown people know more about life than children ; 
and the boy that acts for himself without consulting 
his elders is very likely to get into a scrape. 

It became plain to Reginald that his duty was to 
go home. He began to see that he should never 
have run away. But suppose his aunt had come to 
believe that he was really guilty, — suppose she had 
been persuaded of it by Mr. Gewitz or some of the 
neighbors! A cold sweat came out on his forehead 
at the thought. He was wrong to think of this; he 
might have trusted his aunt to believe no evil of him; 
but instead of sticking to the rule that we must never 
distrust those we love, no matter how appearances 
may be against them, he began to imagine all sorts 
of things — a coldness on the part of his aunt, su§- 


120 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


picion ever)^where; and he, the flower of the flock, 
neglected and despised in jail! If Miles had been 
there, he would certainly have laughed at all this. 

The truth is, Reginald had been praised too much; 
and now he was afraid to do what was right, for fear 
that he should not be praised enough to suit him. 
On the other hand, he was afraid to go to sea with 
Mr. Tar, and afraid to tell him that he would not go. 

Why should he not sneak away quietly? Why 
should he not go out into the streets, wander about 
until daylight, and then find work? He knew that 
this would be cowardly; he knew that, as a manly 
boy, he ought to have waited until Mr. Tar entered. 
But he was afraid to meet him; and so, as he heard 
his voice, he trembled and stole softly out of the 
room into the corridor, and made for the backstairs. 
As he descended, he heard footsteps above him. He 
reached the yard of the hotel. It was easy to get 
out into the street. There he stood in the darkness, 
alone, with the world before him. 

In the room he had just left Mr. Jack Tar was 
standing, looking about him in astonishment. 

“ Where’s the boy ? ” he said. “ Where’s the boy ? 
Where are you ? ” 

There was no answer. Mr. Jack Tar shook the 
bedclothes, punched the pillows, even looked into 
the coal-scuttle; but he found no boy. 

“It is too bad,’’ he said. “He must have dis- 
appeared very suddenly. How foolish I was not to 
know him! So that’s the flower of the flock! I’ll 
find him, never fear!’’ 

He went downstairs at once, and asked the clerk 
to send for a policeman. There were no telephones 
in those days; some time elapsed. Mr. Tar filled it 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


I2I 


by writing out a long description of Reginald. This 
he gave to the policeman. 

“ Find the boy,” he said. 

“What do you want with him?” asked the man. 

“ He is my youngest brother.” 

The policeman went off, to ask questions of the 
hotel servants. Mr. Tar — he was not Mr. Tar at 
all, but Mr. Jack Danby — went out on. Chestnut 
Street to look for Reginald. 

Jack Danby had sold his vessel for a large amount 
of money, and determined to come home to see his 
aunt and his brother. We know how Reginald found 
him in the wood. He went to Mrs. Danby, who was 
anxiously expecting Reginald, and there saw Miles 
and Molly, and heard their story. But he did not say 
a word about the boy he had met in the wood, though 
he was sure it was Reginald. He was resolved to 
please his aunt by a great surprise. He chuckled 
when Mrs. Danby declared that she was so nervous 
she could not really speak, although she talked all 
the time. He almost laughed when she said that 
.something must have happened to Reginald. After 
a time, when her alarm was becoming serious, Mr. 
Danby rose to go. 

“ I’ll be back in an hour,” he said. “ Don’t go to 
bed.” 

“You are very kind,” said Mrs. Danby. “You 
always were. Jack, — although you made too much 
noise, and you were never the flower of the flock. 
But I don’t think you’ll find Reginald. Something 
must have happened to him ! And now all the money 
you have brought will be no good to us, — no good in 
the world ! ” 

“Oh, yes, it will!” answered Jack, laughing. 


122 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


“ Reginald and Miles can go to college after a while; 
you can have a new dress, and a new sign over the 
shop: ‘Mrs. Danby, Confectioner.’” 

” Never! ” said that lady, “ never! I should think 
a new sign sinful extravagance. But I want Regi- 
nald to go to college and learn all he can — if he ever 
comes back.” 

“Oh, never fear! ” replied Jack Danby; “ I’ll find 
him.” 

He left, and Mrs. Danby rocked backward and 
forward in her chair, hoping the best for a minute or 
two, and then fearing the worst for half an hour. 

Miles and Molly played checkers. Molly looked 
brighter already. She had gained Mrs. Danby’s 
heart by not waiting to be told what she ought to do. 
After tea she had swept up the crumbs, tidied the 
room, and washed the dishes as a matter of course. 

“I shall not part with her,” Mrs. Danby said, 
“ even if the Spinkses come and rave outside the 
door. Perhaps she may have been sent to me in re- 
turn for my angel Reginald,” she added, with a sigh. 

Miles was glad to see his cousin Jack, and quite 
as glad to get the big bag of marbles he brought with 
him. They were nearly all “ glasses ” and agates, 
big and little. It was not marble time, but marbles 
will always keep. Even Molly admired them; for 
they were the most beautiful Jack Danby could find 
in all the ports he had visited. There were some 
round Scotch pebbles, clear and bright; agates from 
Japan, porcelain balls from China, and dark flints 
from England. Miles thought that they were too 
beautiful to use. 

You can imagine how disappointed Jack Danby 
was when he reached the Merchants’ Hotel to find 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 1 23 

that Reginald had gone; and you can imagine how 
gladly Reginald would have come back had he only 
known the truth. If he had been brave enough to 
meet Mr. Tar, he would have been saved a great 
deal of suffering. The sarnie thing is true of any of 
us when we turn our backs to our duty. 

Caesar, who had followed Reginald into the street, 
was disgusted. He felt it his duty to stick close to 
Reginald. He had left a comfortable place in front 
of the fire, to go into the damp, cold air outside; he 
could see no sense in it. But he was not a dog to 
turn back after he had once undertaken a trust. 
The night had become cloudy; a soft, drizzling rain 
fell. Caesar kept as near to Reginald’s overcoat as 
possible; and barked once or twice, to show his dis- 
content. 

Reginald turned down the first street he came to. 
The city clocks rang out the hour of eight. He 
counted the hours that would pass before morning. 
If he could only find some packing-box on the side- 
walk, or even a comfortable doorway ! He had heard 
that newsboys without a home sometimes spent the 
night in that way. 

He stopped for a moment in front of a high, 
dark house, with a deep doorway. It had begun to 
rain heavily. Steps were heard behind him; he and 
Csesar slipped into the doorway. A policeman had 
noticed them. 

“ What are you hiding for, boy ?” he asked, drawing 
nearer. 

“I want to keep out of the rain,” Reginald 
answered. 

“I believe you stole that dog,” the policeman 
said, suspiciously. He pulled a dark lantern out of 


124 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


his pocket and let the light shine on Caesar. He 
drew back in astonishment. 

“What an ugly brute!” he exclaimed. “I’m sure 
you never stole hun." 

Caesar barked. He understood what the policeman 
meant by the expression of his face, and he did not 
like to be called ugly; he would have buried his teeth 
in the policeman’s leg, if he had not seen his gilded 
star. 

The policeman passed on. Reginald leaned 
against the doorway, and the night seemed to grow 
darker. The windows opposite were shut. Every- 
where was gloom and silence. He squatted on the 
broad upper step, and let Caesar crawl under his 
overcoat. Caesar was only a dog; but he was a 
good friend, for all that. And he did not care how 
ugly people thought Caesar to be, — Caesar had a heart, 
and that is better than having two eyes. 

He thought over the events of the last few days: 
the window pane, the fatal Dutch cake, Mr. and Mrs. 
Spinks’ hardness, Molly’s sufferings. Miles’ loyalty, 
and Mr. Tar’s proposition. No doubt Miles was at 
home at this time, — “ home, sweet home ”1 And per- 
haps Molly had been whipped and sent to bed by Mr. 
Spinks, weeping because she had no friend, not even 
Caesar. 

Caesar listened intently, while Reginald was lost in 
thought. He heard familiar steps, — steps, at least, 
that he had heard before; for Caesar never forgot a 
footstep. He did not understand the language of the 
human race; but he understood footsteps, just as a 
telegrapher understands the little taps of his instru- 
ment. He raised his ears and listened ; the steps came 
nearer. 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCH. 


125 


Reginald shrank as close to the door as possible. 
It might be Hans Gewitz, — it might be Mr. Spinks, 
— it might be Caesar’s mistress in search of him. 

Caesar knew very well who it was. It was Jack 
Danby looking for his lost brother. Caesar thought 
of the good fire at the hotel, and of Jack’s kind 
face; but he did not move. Reginald was no doubt 
foolish to run away; but, after all, he probably had 
his reasons. And so he let the steps pass without so 
much as uttering a whine to tell Jack Danby where 
he and Reginald were. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE END, 

M r. jack danby passed on; and perhaps he 
would never have known that his brother was 
hiding in the doorway, if Caesar had not again re- 
membered the warm fire at the hotel. He knew Mr. 
Danby’s footstep, as he would have known any foot- 
step he had ever heard. It occurred to him that it 
was very foolish to stay out in the damp night air 
when a comfortable room was waiting for him. 

He yelped, and Reginald tried to put a hand over 
his mouth. He jumped suddenly from the doorway 
and ran after Mr. Danby, who had reached the 
corner, and who stood under the lamp-light, wonder- 
ing which way he should turn. Caesar caught him by 
the tail of his overcoat; he turned and was about to 
kick Caesar, when he saw that the dog had already 
been introduced to him by Reginald. Like all sail- 
ors, Jack Danby was a polite man; he never kicked 


126 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 


dogs that had been introduced to him by anybody. 
Cffisar pulled at his coat-tail, only letting go when 
Mr, Danby walked with him to the doorway in which 
Reginald was hiding. 

Reginald crouched as close as he could. He 
wished the door would open to let him in. He was 
caught! He must go to sea; he should never see 
Aunt Danby or Miles again! He wished now that 
he had given himself up to Hans Gewitz and gone to 
jail. But it was too late. A man’s hand grasped 
his collar, and he was pulled from out the doorway. 

“Ha, young man!” cried his brother. “ I have 
found you at last! You’ll run away from me again, 
will you? I’m going to take you to a place from 
which you’ll not run away. Wild horses can’t drag 
you from it.” 

Reginald groaned, but said nothing. Caesar 
danced about on the damp sidewalk ; he was happy. 
He didn’t care; he thought only of the warm room 
at the hotel. Dogs, no matter how sagacious they 
may be, never suffer like boys: they think only of 
eating, or of a warm fire, or of having fun. 

“ Come on ! ” 

Reginald obeyed. The man took his hand, which 
was cold and trembling, and stood for a moment on 
the street corner. He was watching for a cab. He 
hailed one, said some words to the driver, and then 
pushed Reginald into it. Caesar jumped in, at the 
risk of having his tail cut off by the door as it was 
slammed, and nestled in the straw on the floor. 

“So you changed your mind about going to sea?” 
asked Mr. Danby. 

“ I know I shouldn’t have done it, Mr. Tar” — 
Reginald still thought that his brother’s name was 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 127 

Jack Tar — “but when I remembered the pirates and 
the sharks, I got afraid. Miles is different: he likes 
pirates and Indians, but I never had any taste for 
them. And, besides, Mr. Tar, I am afraid I’ll be 
seasick if you take me on the ocean, and then I could 
not do any work. I’d be only a burden to you if I 
should get ill.” 

“ Everybody is seasick when he first goes to sea,” 
said Mr. Danby. “7 was. It’s the worst kind of 
sickness. When you get used to it, you don’t mind. 
I was tarring a rope when it came on, and the mate 
asked me if I wouldn’t like some salt pork. That 
made me worse; and I just lay there on the pile of 
rope. But pretty soon the mate took a rope’s-end 
and made for me. At first I didn’t move; then he 
brought it down with a slash across my legs, and I 
jumped up mighty quick. I wasn’t sick much after 
that. Seasickness is bad enough, but a rope’s-end 
in the hands of a second-mate is worse. The rope’s- 
end drives the sickness out.” 

Reginald shuddered. “ Must I go to sea ? I’d do 
anything else, anything else that is honest,” he said. 
“ Since I worked for the Spinkses, I don’t mind much 
whether I get my hands blackened or not; I really 
don’t. If I can get a good bit of yellow soap and a 
basin of water in the evening when it is done. I’ll 
work at anything.” 

“You’ll go with me,” said Mr. Danby, sternly. 
“A little craft like you must have a captain; I’m 
that captain just now.” 

Reginald sighed. He had heard the old ladies 
talk about “a vale of tears,” and they had said it 
meant the world. He knew all about it now. 

' The cab rattled along; dim, shadowy houses and 


128 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCH, 


trees, with an occasional lamp-light, seemed to pass 
them. Reginald tried to find consolation somewhere. 
He saw Mr. Tar’s face by a glimpse of light from a 
lamp. It was not an unkind face, and there was 
something like a grin on it. Perhaps Mr. Tar would 
not cure him of seasickness with a rope’s-end. But 
who could tell ? The world was a vale of tears, and the 
tears were no doubt more numerous at sea than any- 
where else. Reginald fell back on religious thoughts 
for consolation. He remembered his Guardian Angel ; 
if anything very bad came near him, he could trust 
his Angel to keep him safe. He drew a long sigh, 
and closed his eyes. He would open them a little 
later, to see a ship waiting to sail away with him! 

“I am afraid you will not make a good sailor,” 
remarked Mr. Danby, chuckling. 

“I am sure I shall not,” said Reginald. “Why, 
Mr. Tar, even when I sail toy ships in a tub, they 
always topple over. Miles’ never do. You’d better 
leave me on land. Oh, do! do! do! good Mr. Tar!” 

Jack Danby chuckled again. At last the carriage 
stopped. 

“ Here we are! ” he said. 

Caesar hopped out, and they followed him. They 
were not near the river: there were no tall masts to 
be seen anywhere. Reginald had a notion that he 
had been in this place before. Mr. Tar went up to 
a door, which looked very like the dear old door of 
his aunt’s house. He knocked, and then pushed it 
open; a bell rang. How familiar was the sound! 
Reginald did not think there was another bell in the 
whole world like the old bell he loved so well, and 
which he thought he would never hear again. 

If this were only his aunt’s house, how happy he 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 129 

should be! God could do everything, he thought; 
God could even change this house into his aunt’s. 
Reginald prayed with all his might. Suddenly he 
thought he heard a voice; 

“ Is that you, Jack ? ” 

He saw the door between the shop and the little 
back-room open, and the light flame out into the 
gloom of the shop. It fell on the jar of nougat and 
lit up the bundle of new brooms; it made a figure, 
like the stock of a gun, on the ceiling. There was 
no other ceiling like that. He was at home: this 
must be his aunt’s! 

“ He has not come yet. Jack,” exclaimed the voice ; 
it was his aunt’s. “ He has not come! ” 

“Yes, he has!” returned the voice of Mr. Tar. 
“I have brought him.” 

Mrs. Danby rushed out of the room into the shop, 
and Reginald was almost choked. 

“ Oh, my dear boy! ” she exclaimed. “ How glad 
I am to see you! Everything has been arranged. 
Hans Gewitz is very sorry ; and only to-night he sent 
over a big pound-cake, with silver leaves upon the 
icing, for you; for we expected you!” 

Reginald could not speak : there was a lump in 
his throat. He saw Miles and Molly playing check- 
ers at the table, while the two old ladies were drink- 
ing tea near the grate. 

“We thought,” Aunt Danby said, “that we would 
not have any toast until you came home. Nobody 
can make toast like you, Reginald.” 

“Oh, thank you! thank you, Mr. Tar!” he said, 
turning to his brother, who stood grinning at the old 
ladies. 

“‘Mr. Tar’!” exclaimed Mrs. Danby. “Why 
9 


130 THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 

does the child say ‘Mr. Tar ’ ? How absurd! Don’t 
you know your own brother Jack? He’s a good 
man, Reginald, though he is a sailor; but he will 
never come up to the flower of the flock.” 

‘“Mr. Tar’ was only my fun, aunt. You know I 
always was a great joker. Shake hands, Reginald; 
Tm Jack Danby, and I want to be a good brother to 
you. Bless your heart, boy! /wouldn’t send you to 
sea if I could help it, — not fora thousand dollars. I 
want you to go to college, and gain all the advantages 
that I didn’t get because I was too lazy. And I’ve 
given Aunt Danby the money you and Miles will want 
for that. And to-morrow I will take you all to the 
menagerie or the circus, and give you a great treat.” 

Miles laughed. Reginald shook hands with his 
brother. Miles, and Molly; and, after a look at every- 
thing in the dear old room, began to make the toast 
at the grate. He was at home again! “ At home 
again! — at home again! — at home again!” he said 
over and over to himself. He could not believe it, — 
it was too good to be true. 

But there was the toast; there were the old ladies; 
there were the teacups, with little blue Chinese pago- 
das on them; there was Hans Gewitz’s beautiful 
cake, with the silver leaves on it; there was Miles; 
there was Molly; and, above all, there was Aunt 
Danby. He was so full of all this — or perhaps his 
hands had grown bigger and clumsier in the last few 
days — that he burned the toast. 

“Let me! ” said Molly, taking the big fork out of 
his hand. And when Molly had buttered her toast, 
the old ladies declared that they had never tasted any- 
thing so good. 

“You must give me something else to do, aunt; 


THE FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. 131 

I think I would rather help shovel the coal for you. 
Making toast is girl’s work; and now that you have 
a little girl in the house, I think that I shall do 
harder work. I know what work is now, aunt,” 
said Reginald. “ I don’t care how hard it is. I’ll do 
it for your sake and for the sake of being at home. 
How can I thank God enough! ” 

“And how can If' asked Molly. “It seemed to 
me that God could not save me from the Spinkses; 
but I prayed hard, and He did. Oh, don’t send me 
back again, Mrs. Danby!” 

“If I do, it will be unknown to myself,” answered 
Mrs. Danby, tightening her lips. “ If I do, Mr. 
Spinks will have to go to law, — that’s all.” 

Molly ran up to Aunt Danby, and kissed her 
tenderly. 

“ You’re a good girl,” said Jack Danby; “and I 
think I can spare a little money for you, too. If 
Mr. Spinks makes any fuss, aunt, just let me know.” 

Everybody felt safe after this. Mrs. Danby 
brought out some cold ham and bread and butter — for 
Reginald’s dinner had been spoiled long ago, — and 
Jack Danby and Reginald and Csesar fell upon the 
food. Mrs. Danby did not like Caesar’s expression; 
but, as he was a friend of Reginald’s, she did not 
mention this; and, which was most considerate, she 
did not let her feelings appear on her face. She 
knew sufficient about dogs to know that they are 
easily prejudiced against people. After a time she 
and Caesar became good friends. She refused to 
send him back to his mistress, but she put this para- 
graph in the advertising columns of the Ledger: 

Mrs. Danby will return both Molly and Caesar, if their folks 
will come for them, and show why they should be given back. 


132 


THE FLO WEE OF THE FLOCK. 


This notice appeared three times. Nobody came. 
It is probable that Caesar’s mistress did not want him, 
and that Mr, Spinks was afraid to come. 

Mrs. Danby waited; and, finally, they all settled 
down together. Soon the shop was enlarged, and a 
beautiful gilt sign put up, and the front door was 
given a new coat of paint. 

Reginald and Miles became the best friends in the 
world. Reginald learned from Miles to be more 
manly, and Miles learned from Reginald how to be 
more polite; and they grew up to be good and useful 
men. 

When Mrs. Danby became older, she sold her 
shop, and moved to a red brick house, with four 
white stone steps in front of it, and white shutters 
on the windows. Molly took care of her, and grew 
to be a good and happy girl. Jack Danby came 
home from sea on the day she made her First Com- 
munion; and he, too, settled down in the red house. 

At this time the boys were at college; and Aunt 
Danby would have been very lonely without them, 
although she still had Cassar, if Jack and Molly were 
not with her, as well as the lovely white-sugar lady, 
surrounded by silver leaves, under the glass case. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 




1 1 1 n I ifiMrtliri 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


CHAPTER I. 


A SAD DAY. 



HE Badgers, like most people, had many happy 


1 and unhappy days. When, later in life, they 
looked back, they all knew that the unhappiest of all 
was the day after their father’s burial. 

There were six of them, three boys and three girls, 
and on that day they found themselves orphans; 
their mother had died several years before. Alice, 
the elder sister, who had as far as possible taken her 
place, sat at the head of the table in the principal 
room of the five which they occupied in a tall apart- 
ment house whose highest windows showed a view of 
the East River and the Brooklyn Bridge. 

Alice’s heart was heavy. Will and Malcolm and 
little John and Clara and little Sara sat around the 
table in silence. It was seldom that they were silent, 
but on this morning they spoke no words. Their 
eyes were heavy and swollen, and even the careless 
twins, John and Sara, took their rolls and milk with- 
out indulging in their usual antics. 

Alice’s heart was the heaviest of all, for upon her 
would fall the planning for the future. Henceforth 
she must take the place of both father and mother. 


135 


136 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


She was seventeen years of age — a year older than 
Will. She was tall, rather slight, with a firm mouth, 
bright brown eyes, and hair of chestnut color, which 
would curl in spite of her efforts to keep it in what 
she thought was a “ ladylike” manner. 

The Badgers had not been rich even when their 
father and mother were alive. They had known few 
of the luxuries of life, but they had been well pro- 
tected. “ I will give my children a good Christian 
education,” Mr. Badger had said. “It is all I can 
leave them.” 

And it was all he had left to the elder children, for 
John and little Sara had only just begun to read, and 
now was to come the test. The young people were 
face to face with life, and they all looked to Alice 
for help. As for Alice, she had nobody to rely upon. 
The Badgers had only lived in Brooklyn for a short 
time, and they had no friends as yet. They occu- 
pied what is called a “ flat ” in a house near the river. 
They were at the top of the house, and the children 
were never tired of watching the great bridge and 
the movement of vessels. On this misty October 
morning Alice found the view gray and gloomy 
through the falling rain. She had assisted at early 
Mass, and dressed the little ones. She had attended 
to all her household duties. She had not found them 
irksome; she felt that she would enjoy such work, if 
she could only see into the future. How was she to 
find bread and butter and fire and clothes for these 
children? And the winter was coming! 

The neighbors had been kind during those days 
between her father’s death and his funeral. The 
pastor of the church and the sisters of the school had 
given her great consolation. But the time had come 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 137 

when she and the children must help themselves. 
She realized that. But how to do it? That was the 
question. 

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at the group 
about the table. Clara, in spite of her sorrow, had 
pinned a bit of geranium to her blagk gown; and 
looking at her golden hair and blue eyes, Alice’s 
heart sank lower. Clara was her favorite. She had 
set her heart on becoming a musician, and to Alice 
she seemed least of all able to go out into the world 
and work. And then she was so young! Will 
looked strong and sturdy; but he was not specially 
clever at his books; he had always done his best 
however. Malcolm was the clever one; he looked 
like Clara; he had a talent for writing. Alice and 
her father had determined that he should have a col- 
lege education. Now it was all over. He must be 
a drudge all his life! 

If the sun had shone, Alice perhaps would have 
been less gloomy. But there was no sun and no 
brightness anywhere. It seemed as if under each 
eyelid were unshed tears. 

Suddenly little Sara slipped from her chair, and 
ran to Alice. 

“I love you,” she said, putting her dimpled hand 
about her sister’s neck. “ I do love you, — and father 
loves you in heaven. And,” with a smile that 
showed all her little teeth, “ Christmas is coming, 
and Santa Claus will bring us everything we want! ” 

Alice took the child upon her lap. “Christmas! ” 
The sound gave Alice a pang. But the baby voice 
somehow comforted her. 

“Yes,” she said, “ Our Lord will help us to get all 
we need! ” 


138 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

In spite of the mist on the river, in spite of the 
gloom of the morning, the world seemed brighter for 
those words. She looked at the unusually silent 
group and took courage. And then she cast her 
eyes toward the great, gloomy city. It seemed to 
threaten her, — but she took courage again. The 
world was full of orphans who had not starved. 
Why should her little brood not succeed ? 

The day wore on. At noon the sunshine came, 
and the spirits of the young people rose. 

“ Father would, if he were here, want us to be 
cheerful,” Will said with a break in his voice. “Of 
course, Alice, you and I will have to make some plans 
for the others. We must give up school.” 

Alice kept back the tears that suddenly rose to her 
eyes. 

“Yes,” she said, “I understand that.” 

They stood in the little parlor of the flat, looking 
at the other high brown-stone flats in front of them. 

“Were ever people more wretched ! ” cried Will. 
“ Here we are! without money, — without anybody to 
help us, — with no prospect for making our living, and 
no hope of finishing our education. And father 
dead ! ” 

“He can never be dead to us,” Alice said ; “we 
remember him in our prayers, and his example will 
always live with us. No, — he is not dead! ” 

“I wonder what he would have had us do,” Will 
said. “ His death was so sudden ! I thought he had 
fainted! How happy it was that you made me go 
for the priest! Ah, dear father! All that he wanted 
was that we should have a good Christian education; 
it seems impossible that he should not be here to tell 
us what to do.” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 139 

“We must work, and we must work with some 
object in view,” said Alice. “Father wanted me to 
be a teacher, and the Visitation Sisters think that I 
should make a good one. Oh, if he had only lived 
until I had passed the examination. Only think, 
Will, I should be earning six or seven hundred dol- 
lars a year! ” 

“We must do what we can. The rent is paid for 
a month in advance, and Mr. Thompson sent a hun- 
dred dollars. It was kind of him, for father had not 
been with him more than a year. We have a month 
before us, a hundred dollars, and no debts.” 

“I must think,” Alice said. “Suppose you take 
the children out for a walk. They have been in the 
house too much. And to-night we will talk matters 
over.” 

“ Perhaps Mrs. Ponsonby will help us in some 
way,” said Will, brightening; “ she was always kind.” 

“No,” answered Alice decidedly. “She offered 
to lend us some money. I met her this morning as I 
came from Mass. I thanked her, and I hope you 
will, too, when you see her; but we can’t begin by 
borrowing money. We must do with what we have.” 

“ I thought perhaps she could get me something 
to do.” 

“She would if she could — dear old lady! But she 
knows nobody, and I am sure the twenty dollars she 
offered me had been saved by her with the greatest 
difficulty. It is good to have such a kind friend ! ” 

Alice’s face lighted up, and Will felt more cheer- 
ful. He even laughed as he descended the staircase 
with Clara, Malcolm, and the twins. 

“So you think we could walk to the park?” he 
a?ked, as they turned into Fulton Street. 


140 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

“We could,” said Clara, “but I am afraid the 
children couldn’t. Let’s ride.” 

Will’s heart sank again. He had only ten cents in 
his pocket. Even if he should not have to pay for 
the children in the street car, there would not be 
enough to pay for the three others. 

“ Oh, do let us go! ” exclaimed Clara. “ The sun- 
shine will soon dry the grass. This will be the last 
of the bright fall days. Do let us go.” 

“Of course,” said Malcolm, raising his hand to 
signal a passing car. But Will stopped him. 

“We can’t go.” 

“ Why not ? ” Malcolm asked, in surprise. 

“Why not?” echoed Clara. “It’s just a notion 
of yours, Will ! The children need not run on the 
grass if you think it is too wet. You’ll not race over 
the grass if we go to the park, will you, children ? ” 

“Oh, no,” said the children. “We want to go to 
the park.” 

Will turned uneasily to Malcolm. 

“ Let the children run on, to that toy-shop window, 
and I’ll explain. Run, John; run, Sara!” 

Off the twins went to admire the dolls and steam- 
engines so temptingly displayed. 

“The truth is, Clara, I have only ten cents,” Will 
said, “and,” he added, with a laugh, “even if we 
could ride out to the park for that, we should have 
to walk back.” 

“Absurd! ” said Clara. “Why didn’t we think of 
asking Alice for some money ? ” 

“ We cannot have money unless we work for it — 
now,” Will said. 

Malcolm laughed. 

“ Not even ten cents!” he exclaimed. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 141 

“It may seem hard,” said Will; “not even that 
small sum — unless we earn it.” 

Clara and Malcolm looked at their brother in 
amazement. Their father had been kind to them, 
and had given them every reasonable pleasure within 
his means. They could not understand this sudden 
change. 

“ You don’t mean that we can’t even take a ride 
in a street car ? ” said Malcolm. 

“It’s mean!” exclaimed Clara. “I’m sure we’ve 

suffered enough without having to ” Tears filled 

Clara’s eyes. “I declare. Will, you’re too stingy!” 

“You must not say that, Clara; you ought not 
to!” Will answered, deeply pained. “We are very 
poor now, and we cannot spend any money unless 
we can earn it.” 

Clara left Will and walked in front, a frown on her 
face and something like a chill at her heart. Mal- 
colm joined her, and Will followed alone, feeling 
for the first time that there was disunion in the family 
life, which had hitherto been so happy. 

The three stopped at the window of the toy store, 
where the twins stood. 

“Oh, Will,” John cried, with a bright face, “you 
will give me that fire-engine and that train of cars 
for Christmas, won’t you? It’s what I want. 
Promise, Brother Will! ” 

“ Brother Will won’t promise,” said Clara sharply. 
“ He is determined that nobody shall have anything. 
Christmas will be very poor for us. I’m afraid.” 

John looked up into Will’s face, and saw, with a 
little child’s keen instinct, that he was hurt. 

“Brother Will is good! ” he said sympathetically. 
“Clara, you’re a bad thing! ” 


142 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

“And that’s my doll!” said Sara, pointing to a 
cheerful-looking colored doll, dressed in a garb that 
was like a sunflower, “I can’t wait till Christmas, 
I’ll have my doll now.” 

“Oh, no, you will not,” said Clara sarcastically. 
“ When some people become miserly, even the chil- 
dren must suffer.” 

Will bit his lip, and took the twins by the hands. 

“Some day, children, you shall have both the doll 
and the engine,” he said. “At Christmas, perhaps.” 

“When Christmas comes on the Fourth of July,” 
Clara added. Malcolm laughed. 

“ It never comes then, does it. Brother Will ? ” 
John asked, after some thought. 

Will was spared an answer by the appearance of 
an organ-grinder with a monkey. The organ was in 
a wagon ; it had tones som’ewhat like those of the 
piano. And the monkey jumped and capered to 
the music so delightfully that the twins forgot the 
toys. 

“ Does he bite ? Does he bite?” exclaimed Sara. 
“Oh, I wonder if he bites. Look! — he can eat an 
apple. Oh, Johnny, what a funny little beast. Run 
— run! — he is coming! ” 

“I’m not afraid,” said John sturdily. “He’s 
chained. I wouldn’t be afraid anyhow,” he added; 
but he gripped Will’s hand hard as the monkey ran 
toward him, and was pulled back. 

A policeman soon stopped the amusement. Ful- 
ton Street was too crowded for this sort of entertain- 
ment, and so the monkey and his master had to 
“ move on.” 

Clara paused in front of a florist’s store to admire 
a great stock of tuberoses. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


143 


“How rich! how fragrant! And two sprays for 
five cents! ” she added, looking at Will, 

Will could not endure this. He bought two sprays 
and gave them to her. 

“I hope this does not make us bankrupt,” she 
said. “If we are so poor. I’ll put them back again. 
Thank you all the same.” 

Clara was the most handsome of the family, and 
she believed, too, that she was the cleverest. Will 
sighed, but, with brotherly pride, he thought that she 
was very pretty when she did not frown. 

The gift of the tuberoses somewhat restored her 
serenity. She and Malcolm were exceedingly fond 
of flowers. Will picked up some illustrated adver- 
tisement cards, which a boy in a blue uniform was 
sowing broadcast in the street, and these pleased the 
twins so much that Alice, when they returned at twi- 
light, declared that the walk must have been a 
success. 

The big lamp was lighted, and Alice had a large 
tureen of soup ready. The tuberoses were set in a 
vase on the table, and a glimpse of cheerfulness 
seemed to have come again. 

When Alice had put the twins to bed, and Malcolm 
and Clara had gone into the parlor to play check- 
ers, Will and she sat on either side of the stove, deep 
in consultation. Something must be done. Alice, 
who had been her father’s confidante, had looked 
through his box of papers in the afternoon. She 
knew more about his affairs than Will ; so he waited 
in the red glow from the open doors of the stove. 

“We have nothing except the house at Belmont,” 
Alice said, “and there is a large mortgage on that.” 

“ Mortgage ? ” asked Will. “ That means, I sup- 


144 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


pose, that somebody else has an ownership in it 
besides ourselves.” 

“That is about it,” Alice said doubtfully. “But 
it can be paid off when we get the money. Father 
was paying some of it off every year.” 

“We have never seen it,” said Will. “Is it far?” 

“ About a hundred miles from New York. Father 
hoped that we could all go there some time and be 
out of the city. There is a house and some ground. 
It is all we have.” 

“Alice,” said Will solemnly, “ I wish I knew what 
to do. We can’t pay the rent here; but if we go to 
Belmont, we may find no church or school. If I 
could only get something to do and struggle along 
here until the children are educated.” 

“We shall have to pay board,” Alice answered. 
“ Father and mother always ta.ught us to pray hard 
when in doubt, and to work on.” 

Will’s face became gloomy. “Ah, Alice,” he said, 
“it is awful! To think of father and mother both 
gone! Suppose I couldn’t get work, we’d all 
starve.” 

“Will,” said Alice, brightening up, as she always 
did when other people were gloomy, “I’d make you 
a good cup of coffee if it were not so late. You 
need toning up. We have only to trust in God and 
do our best. Other people have succeeded, why 
shouldn’t we? At the worst,” she added, with an 
attempt at a joke, “ we can grow potatoes at Bel- 
mont and live on them.” 

Will smiled a little. “ I’m afraid I don’t know a 
strawberry-plant from a potato-vine. But, Alice,” 
he said, growing serious, “ we must remember that 
Clara and Malcolm love the city. Malcolm has 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


145 


always been somewhat spoiled, you know, — father 
coddled him more than the others because he was 
delicate, — and Clara likes the streets and the stores.” 

“You and I must decide for them, Will. We must 
do what we think father would have us do.” 

Will shook his head and sighed. He was tempted 
to tell Alice of the little episodes in Fulton Street, 
but he concluded to hold his tongue. 

Clara, who had grown tired of a game in which 
luck seemed to be against her, entered the kitchen, 
hoping to find an opponent less skilful than Malcolm. 

“I am glad you’ve come, Clara,” Alice said. 
“Will and I are having a serious talk.” 

“I don’t care for serious talks,” said Clara. “I 
want to play checkers or something. Let us play 
euchre and beat Malcolm. I believe he cheats! ” 

“ No, he doesn’t, ” called Malcolm’s voice ; “ he only 
plays better than anybody else.” 

Malcolm entered, evidently in good humor with 
himself. 

“We are having a serious conversation,” Will 
began. 

“Haven’t we been serious enough for one day? 
I say, Alice, Will is too serious.” 

“We are talking of the future.” 

“Let the future take care of itself, Alice. I want 
just now to play checkers with somebody that can 
play.” 

“We shall have to leave Brooklyn,” said Alice. 

“What, go away from here — away from New 
York! You don’t mean it!” said Clara and Mal- 
colm together. 

“Yes, I do,” answered Alice. “We must go into 

the country.” 

10 


146 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Malcolm’s face fell, Clara opened her eyes. 

“ There is only one place to go — father’s house at 
Belmont.” 

“I will not go there,” Clara said, stamping her 
foot. “ I am not going to be buried, not to please 
anybody. I suppose you’ll want me to give up 
school and my music, and never to go to the theatre 
or the shops. I will not go, that’s all! ” 

“ Clara’s right,” Malcolm said sulkily. “Will and 
you would like to make mummies of us. I shall stay 
where I am, that’s all.” 

Alice and Will were silent. At last Alice spoke. 

“We are orphans; we are poor; we can afford to 
pay rent no longer. And at Belmont there is a 
house.” 

“You need not say any more! ” exclaimed Clara. 
“ I will not go! ” 

“ Nor I! ” said Malcolm, as he followed his sister 
from the room. 


CHAPTER II, 


THE LITTLE MOTHER. 



HE days that followed the talk in the kitchen of 


1 the flat were not happy. There had been no 
division of opinion in the family when Mr. Badger 
lived. He had been very kind and indulgent, but 
his will on all important questions was law. He had 
two objects in view, the education of his children and 
the paying off the debt on the house at Belmont. 
And he let nothing interfere with these objects. He 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


147 


had petted Clara and Malcolm more than the others, 
principally because Clara was like her mother. Mal- 
colm had developed a talent for elocution at school, 
and had amused his father with it at home. His 
father’s praise had made him somewhat conceited, 
and, in his heart, he cherished the notion that he had 
fine talent and that he would one day become a 
great actor. When the teacher in the class-room 
spoke of genius, Malcolm tried not to look conscious, 
but he really believed that he was the one boy in all 
the school who had genius. 

“ If we were only united ! ” Alice said. “ A united 
family can stand against the world! ” 

Clara said that nothing would induce her to leave 
Brooklyn; she was determined to stay where she 
was. Why couldn’t they take a house in New York 
and keep boarders? Malcolm, who, everybody said, 
had wonderful talent for the stage, would soon make 
money, and as for herself, she intended to be an 
actress too! 

This was too much for Alice; she began to cry. 
And even Clara was somewhat touched. 

“ You know you would not talk this way if father 
was alive; you know he would be angry,” said Alice. 

“I often talked this way to him,” Clara said 
saucily, “and he only laughed.” 

“ Because he thought it was all nonsense — childish 
nonsense; remember, Clara, you are only fourteen 
years old.” 

“I can’t help that! I know my own mind. And 
I will not be buried in the country! ” 

“ But we’ll lose the house at Belmont if we don’t 
go to live there, and try to keep it.” 

“I don’t care. Malcolm and I will soon make 


148 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

enough money to buy twenty Belmonts. You should 
hear us do the ghost scene in ‘Hamlet’!” Clara 
struck an attitude and marched slowly across the 
room. “ Listen, Alice, I am the ghost, I come in 

this way. Horatio — Malcolm is Horatio — says ” 

“Oh, Clara,” exclaimed Alice, “how can you? 
How can you? When life is so serious! Don’t you 
know that we can’t pay the rent for another month 
here and that we must go. to Belmont? ” 

“I don’t care,” said Clara again. “I will not go 
to Belmont. Malcolm and I will stay here. You 
can do as you please! ” 

“ And leave us? ” 

“It strikes me that you are leaving us^" said 
Clara. “ Malcolm and I must not let our talents be 
crushed. If you had ever read ‘Caroline; or Life’s 
Burdens,’ you would understand what it means to 
have one’s hopes crushed. Caroline was a girl who 

had the loveliest voice ” 

“Oh, Clara, I can’t stand this! You. are only a 
little girl, — what right have you to talk such non- 
sense? You’ve been reading some cheap novel ! Oh, 
dear! I wish father were alive.” 

Clara smiled in a superior way, and went off to the 
parlor. 

Will had gone out with the twins. Alice’s only 
resource was Mrs. Ponsonby. 

Mrs. Ponsonby was an old gentlewoman who had 
an apartment opposite to theirs. She had four rooms 
at the top of the house. She was a Virginian, full 
of delightful stories of the old-time life in the South; 
she had been attracted to the children through meet- 
ing them at church, and there was no greater pleas- 
Vire for them than to gather about her old-fashioned 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 149 

cooking stove in the twilight and to listen and talk 
while she prepared her supper. 

“It was almost as good,” Johnny said, “as a 
blacksmith shop.” And Johnny could stand for 
hours in front of a blacksmith shop without being 
tired. 

Mrs. Ponsonby was at home, sitting placidly in 
her arm-chair with her knitting-needles deep in the 
foot of a stocking. 

“Naughty little mother,” she said, as she kissed 
her, “you have been angry. Now tell me what is 
worrying you.” 

Alice looked at the kind face framed in soft, white 
hair, and told her woes. 

“So Clara and Malcolm will not go?” 

“And I cannot make them go! ” 

“It seems best that you should go,” said Mrs. 
Ponsonby, after a pause. “These children must 
learn their lessons; let them stay with me.” 

Alice was startled by this proposition. “ The chil- 
dren will be company for me, — and, if they must stay, 
safer in my hands.” 

“If they will stay,” Alice said, sighing, “I shall 
leave them with you.” 

When she reached home, she found Malcolm in 
great spirits. He had gone to a theatre and been 
engaged at twenty-five cents a night, to hold a spear. 
He had been on a real stage! 

“Oh, how could you do it?” asked Alice. 

“ Why not ? ” Malcolm said. “ It’s just as good as 
anything else, — just as good. Some day when I am a 
great actor and Clara a great actress, you’ll be 
sorry! ” 

Will shook his head, and Malcolm went into the 


150 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

parlor, to tell Clara of the wonders behind the 
scenes. 

It seemed to Alice that the greatest of all troubles 
had fallen upon her. If the children could only have 
been kept together she would have been contented. 
But they were to be separated, and Clara and Mal- 
colm left to face strange, unknown dangers. 

There was no use in gloom; she understood that. 
She could only thank Heaven that they were out of 
debt, and prepare to move to Belmont. She had 
already learned that worrying is foolish. 

Will had never travelled; his journeys, when he 
had lived in Jersey City, had been limited to the 
crossing of the ferry. And of late he had rarely 
gone to New York from Brooklyn. The question 
of the journey to Belmont was therefore a serious 
one. “I wish you were -going, Alice,” Will said, 
nervously. “ I can hardly tell whether the house is 
suitable or not.” 

“ If there are four walls, and it is not damp, and 
there is a good well,” Alice said, “it will have to 
do. I should not have thought of the well, but Mrs. 
Ponsonby charged me to tell you to look for it. I 
can’t go, the children must be looked after, and 
think of the extra expense. And, Will, Mrs. Pon- 
sonby thinks that we might raise our own vegetables.” 

“ If we know how! ” said Will doubtfully. “ I have 
always heard that it is cheaper to buy.” 

“Oh — yes,” answered Alice, “if one has the 
money ! ” 

The whole family accompanied Will to the elevated 
railroad station. He had not long to wait for his 
train when he reached the Grand Central Depot. 
And^ once aboard, with “ the wind in the ghpulder of 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 151 

his sail,” he forgot his doubts and fears. The land- 
scape, which seemed to hurry past him, pleased him 
greatly. About noon, just as he was thinking that 
it was time to eat the sandwiches and the hard-boiled 
eggs in the box Alice had forced him to take, the 
conductor called out “ Belmont! ” 

He rose from his seat to run hastily to the plat- 
form. There was to be a stop of five minutes, but 
Will did not know that. He jumped hastily from 
the platform. An old countryman who was waiting 
at the station asked him if he thought an earthquake 
was coming after him. Will was surprised that the 
train did not dash away at full speed the moment he 
touched the ground. 

Several people descended from the train and there 
was a pause for luncheon. Will looked at the coun- 
ter in the lunch-room, about which the hungry travel- 
lers gathered. He was not tempted; the cold pork 
and beans, white-crusted pie, and queer-looking coffee 
made him think with pleasure of Alice’s box. 

“Oh, dear. I’m so hungry!” said a voice near 
him. Will turned, to see a shabbily dressed little 
girl looking with eager eyes at the uninviting array 
on the counter. The remark was addressed to a 
woman in a shabby black gown and shawl, whose 
pale face Will could see beneath her veil. 

“Wait,” the woman said. “Don’t talk so loud, 
Tillie.” 

“I am hungry,” said the little girl. “I don’t see 
how you can keep up, mammy. We’ve had no 
breakfast, and I couldn’t sleep in the cars last night, 
I was so hungry.” 

Will moved away from the two. His own anxieties 
went out of his mind. He stole another glance at 


152 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

the pinched face of the child, and became filled with 
a desire to help these two forlorn-looking creatures. 

Like most boys, he had a horror of doing an un- 
usual thing. It might seem “ girly ” for him to take 
an interest in these people. Alice could do it, of 
course; that sort of thing was a girl’s business. No, 
he said to himself, he would mind his own, and ask 
the station-master where his father’s house was. 
But a man passed carrying two cups of coffee, in 
great, thick china, toward the car. 

“ Oh, how good! ” said the shrill voice of the little 
• girl. 

Her companion — evidently her mother — whispered 
something to her, and she was silent, but her eyes 
wistfully followed the bearer of the coffee. 

Will could not stand this. He approached the 
bench where the mother and daughter had seated 
themselves, and drew one of the two large apples 
from the pocket of his overcoat. 

“May I give your little girl this?” 

The woman in black raised her eyes in a startled 
way to his face. Will saw that her eyes filled with 
tears, as she thanked him. 

“Let me get you some coffee,’’ he said, hastily. 
Before the woman could answer, he had elbowed his 
way to the counter and back. He held two of the 
thick cups filled with an aromatic brown liquid which 
smelled like coffee. 

“Oh, how kind you are,” said the woman, as he 
stood before her. “I am afraid, though, that I 
haven’t the change to pay ” 

Will understood. 

“ Never mind, — I shall see you perhaps another 
time. Do you live here?” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. . 153 

The woman answered: “No; — I am going to a 
house not far from here.” The boy asked no other 
questions but, having returned the coffee cups to the 
counter, he walked along the road, with the woman 
and the little girl at his side. The road lay between 
level lands, tinged with the brown, red, and yellow 
of late autumn. The girl stooped, with a cry of de- 
light, once or twice to pick up a hickory nut. 

“ Dear me,” she said, “ I never knew that hickory 
nuts grew in those funny green pods! ” 

“It is plain that you are a city child,” said her 
mother, with a faint smile. “ I hope that you will 
like the country.” 

The air was so fresh and bracing and there seemed 
to be more sky and world than there was in the city. 
After a time they came to a spring almost choked 
with watercresses, and near it lay a bird’s nest. 
The girl took it up and held it under her shawl as if 
she had found a treasure. 

Their paths separated at last. Mrs. Forsythe dis- 
covered this by referring to the card in her hand. 
The sad face brightened as she shook Will’s hand. 

“ You don’t know how kind you have been. God 
bless you! May I ask your name?” 

“Will Badger, ma’am.” 

“Mine is Mrs. Forsythe; — my daughter’s is Tillie. 
God bless you ! ” 

Will went on his way with a strange sense of lone- 
liness. He looked back, to see the mother and 
daughter standing on the porch of a large, red farm- 
house in a cornfield. 

Will came at last to a great cabbage field, filled 
with stalks, and opposite this was a meadow, the 
grass of which was still fresh and green. A hedge 


^54 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


of box-wood, ill kept and ragged, separated the 
meadow from the road. At first, he saw no house, 
the centre of the field being filled by a clump of 
oak-trees. As this was the cabbage field near which 
“old Dodd’s house” was described as standing, he 
stood puzzled. After a time, he saw a gleam of 
light among the trees; the sun had struck a pane of 
glass. There was probably a house there. 

He made his way through an opening in the hedge, 
and crossing the meadow, found that his guess was 
right. There was a large square, modern house, 
surrounded by a wide porch, built on a foundation of 
brick. Behind the house stood a windmill. When 
he reached the interior of the grove, he saw that the 
oaks grew thick and darkened the space around 
them. The house was neglected in appearance; the 
paint had worn off and the railings of the porch had 
fallen from their places. Nevertheless, the house 
pleased Will. It was large — and then what pleasure 
the children would have in that roomy porch on rainy 
days! Besides it was home; it was their own. No- 
body could complain if they should sing out loud or 
even dance. John and Sara could romp as much as 
they pleased, and there would be no neighbor on the 
lower floor to find fault with it. And then the deli- 
cious smell of the drying oak-leaves (he could hear 
the acorns dropping around him) I He stooped to 
take up a puff ball which lay at his feet. He went to 
the back of the house. There was a glorious eastern 
view. He took a long breath of the crisp, keen air. 
In the distance smoke was curling upward and mak- 
ing a blue haze. A. farmer’s boy was burning a 
great pile of leaves. In the next field he noticed 
the yellow pumpkins lying among the corn-stalks. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 155 

These sights, unnoticed by so many country people, 
were delightful and new to this city-bred boy. 

He had brought the key of the house with him; it 
turned slowly in the rusty lock of the front door, and 
when the door was unlocked, it moved inward with 
a groan at the unusual exertion. 

He found himself in a wide hall between two 
rooms; a staircase led to the upper rooms. The 
wall paper had peeled, and lay in strips on the floor. 
The room on the right had evidently been used as a 
parlor, as there was an elaborately framed, but 
broken, mirror over the chimney-piece. In the other 
room, a round table resting on three legs against 
the wall showed that this room had been used for 
dining. 

There were two other rooms on this floor and a 
large kitchen sheltered by a porch overrun by wild 
grape-vines and Virginia creeper. Will made his 
way upstairs. The five rooms were large, damp, and 
dusty. He ascended to the attic, but he could not 
open the door which led to the room. He had no 
key, and it almost seemed as if a form within resisted 
his efforts. 

He was not especially anxious to enter. The 
other rooms occupied his attention sufficiently. He 
was pleased to find a little room to the south made 
of rough wood, but sashed with glass. It was 
flooded with sunshine. 

Will stood enjoying it, and planning a greenhouse. 
The cellar was musty. There were remnants of 
dried fruit on the ground, and a pile of shrunken 
potatoes. 

The house was dark and somewhat damp, — there 
was too much shade. But, nevertheless. Will liked 


156 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

it. He saw how Alice’s mind and his strong hands 
would change it. At any rate, life here would be 
better than in a cleft in the wall called a flat, and 
he could almost see the twins growing rosier and 
healthier in this fresh country air. 

He roamed about the meadow land. There was 
a great chestnut-tree near one corner and half a 
dozen hickory-trees near it. Behind the house was 
a small orchard. On the ground were numbers of 
apples of the variety called “ sheep’s nose.” Will 
ate two, and he found them so pleasant that he de- 
termined to take home as many as he could. There 
were still a number on the boughs. 

His spirits rose. He went toward the pump, an 
iron one, somewhat rusted, arranged so that it could 
be attached to the windmill. 

A cocoanut shell, broken in half, lay on the ground 
near the pump. He drank a draught of clear, cold 
water. 

“We shall not need ice in our water out here,’’ he 
said to himself. 

He went through the house again. There was an 
old cooking-stove in the kitchen and a rickety settee, 
but nothing else. Will looked at the big kitchen and 
thought how happy Alice would be in it. She cer- 
tainly would have room “ to turn around ’’ here. 

The afternoon passed rapidly. Everything about 
the place was new to this city boy. He filled his 
pockets with chestnuts, hickory-nuts, and apples, 
and his hands with the late golden rod and some pale 
pink chrysanthemums he picked in the front garden. 

When he started for the railroad station his spirits 
had risen. There are no tonics like fresh air and 
energetic exercise, and Will went whistling along the 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 157 

road as if he had new life in him. He had his watch 
with him, so he felt that there was no fear of his 
being late. He looked at it, and saw that he had 
plenty of time; still he became nervous as he neared 
the station. What if his watch were slow; it was 
an old watch, wound with a key, and it had odd 
habits at times. The light in the west guided him; 
he could almost tell the hour by that. 

When he reached the station, it lacked just fifteen 
minutes of train time. He was surprised to find the 
place deserted. Ten minutes passed. The luncheon- 
room was closed and there was nobody in the ticket- 
office. Will looked at his watch and compared the 
time with that of the great clock on the wall. His 
watch was right. He looked at his time-table, and 
for the first time noticed that it was dated “June 
ist. ” Perhaps it was a time-table which had been 
replaced by another schedule. He walked up and 
down the platform, looking in vain for somebody to 
speak to. He saw a man wheeling a barrow on 
which there was a trunk. 

“When does the next train go to New York?” 
asked Will. 

“ From here ? ” said the man. 

“Yes, from Belmont.” 

“ There’s a limited at seven o’clock, but it does 
not stop here. You can’t leave here until eleven 
o’clock to-morrow.” 

Will’s heart sank. He held out the time-table to 
the man, who had dropped his wheelbarrow. 

“That’s no good,” the man said, when Will had 
mentioned the date. “ The trains have been changed 
half a dozen times since June. The evening train 
has been taken off. You’ll have to stay here all 


15S THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

night. Where have you been ? Visiting anybody ? *’ 

“No,” Will answered; “I came to see a house 
here, a house that belonged to my father, and which 
has been empty for some time.” 

The man looked at Will anxiously. 

“You don’t mean old Dodd’s.” 

“Yes,” Will said. 

“You’ll have a sweet time there. Everybody 
knows the place is haunted! ” 

“Haunted!” Will said. 

“Oh, it’s a nice house,” the man answered. 
“ There’s a lot of us would like to live in it, if it 
were not for the things that happen there.” 

A chill ran through Will. 

“What things?” 

“The noises,” said the man, taking up his barrow. 
“ I hope I haven’t frightened you. I never saw a 
ghost myself — that is, not to know one. I’d let you 
stay all night in the depot, but my orders are to lock 
up. Tramps come there and lie around, if we don’t 
lock the place up. One thing is siye, there is no 
train to-night.” 

The man pushed his barrow forward and turned 
the corner of the station. Will stood still. He felt 
lonely and forsaken. The night had begun to fall. 
He looked down the road. There was no human 
creature in sight. The brightness of the landscape 
had departed. A twinkling light in the distance 
showed where a farm-house stood. He turned and 
saw half a dozen such lights lit in the direction of 
“Old Dodd’s.” But there was none for him. For 
the first time in his life, he understood what home- 
sickness was. But what was he to do? There was 
no Alice near. He could not ask her opinion. He 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 159 

thought of the old house without fire, without lights, 
and with the reputation of strange, uncanny inmates. 

While he stood on the edge of the platform, he 
felt a cold drop on his forehead; he raised his hand 
and several other drops pattered upon it. The glow 
of sunset had faded from the west and there was a 
dark purple mass of clouds where it had been. Will’s 
first thought had been that he might sleep among 
the dry stubble in the fields, wrapped in his overcoat. 
He dismissed it now, for the rain began to come 
down quickly in big drops. 

There was no help for it. He must go back to 
the house. What would Alice think of his absence? 
She would imagine all sorts of things. She would 
fancy that there had been a railroad accident, and 
stay awake all night. If he but had a match or a 
candle. How could he sleep in that gloomy house? 

But there was no help for it. He turned up the 
collar of his coat and went back slowly. He wished 
that somebody would come out from one of those 
houses and ask him to stay all night. He stopped 
near the gate of one and felt inclined to ask if he 
might rest there all night. If he had been a country 
boy, he would probably not have hesitated. He said 
to himself that it would be too much like begging and 
went on. Just as he reached the entrance of the 
house into which Mrs. Forsythe and Tillie had gone, 
a hand was put on his shoulder, and a voice, which 
he recognized as that of Mrs. Forsythe, spoke to him. 

“I saw you pass to the train,” she said. “I 
wanted to tell you that the time had been changed, 
but you walked so fast. Tillie and I have found our 
friends, and I thought perhaps I might be of use to 
you in some way.” 


l 6 o the badgers of BELMONT. 

“I am much obliged,” Will answered eagerly. 
“ I should like to have some matches and a 
candle ” 

“I will get them for you, if I can,” Mrs. Forsythe 
said. “ Our friends are a little strange in their 
ways; — so, if you’ll stand here under the porch. I’ll 
see what 1 can do.” 

Will moved up to the porch and waited. In a 
short time Mrs. Forsythe returned. 

“ There is the candle and some matches — and 
something else. Good-by,” she said, “I shall never 
forget your kindness. I wish I could be of more use 
to you.” 

She drew her shawl over her head and disappeared. 

Will was glad to get the candle and the matches. 
The other package was warm, and when he opened 
it he found two hot sausages between rolls. These 
and the remains of his luncheon were a great comfort 
to him, and he wisely reflected that he could endure 
the gloom of the night much better if he were not 
hungry. 

He was somewhat more cheerful when he reached 
the old house. He made the sign of the cross and 
said five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys. After all, 
what could harm him if he were in the grace of 
God? Suppose a ghost should come, he might be 
able to find out what it needed, and help to send it 
again to rest. He went into the kitchen, and lit the 
candle, which he placed in a broken bottle. There 
was no means of making a fire; he searched for 
wood outside the house and found some sticks thor- 
oughly damp. He wrapped his overcoat around him, 
and, having propped up the settee as best he could, 
and eaten his frugal supper, he lay down, with eyes 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


wide open. He did not know what to expect; and, 
as there was no bolt on the kitchen door and he had 
no key to the lock, he resolved to stay awake all 
night. He was afraid; he said his prayers over and 
over again. There was no sound but the dropping 
of the rain. As he went to sleep he heard the wind 
rising. He tried hard to keep awake, but his eyes 
closed. 

He was awakened suddenly. A hoarse scream 
seemed to cut the air. It was followed by another 
and another, and then by groan after groan. It was 
as if some creature was in the greatest pain. He 
jumped from the settee. The kitchen was dark. 
The sounds seemed at first to come from the interior 
of the house. Will struck a match. His candle had 
burned out. The wind was whistling around the 
house, but above it sounded wild shrieks and groans. 
He pushed against the door leading into the dining- 
room. It was locked. He felt that he must leave 
this horrible place. He lit another match and tried 
the other door; it was locked too. He knew that it 
had not been locked when he lay down. The shrieks 
and groans grew louder and the wind screamed shrilly 
past the corners of the house. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE GHOST. 


HE louder the wind howled the louder the shrieks 



1 sounded without. Will, in great fear, battered 
against the kitchen door that led into the open air. 
He felt that he must get out of this strange place. 


IX 


i 62 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Once outside, he could hold his own with any ghost. 
But the door would not yield. He tried the win- 
dow; he raised the lower sash, and in a minute’s 
time he had reached the firm earth outside. There 
was a lull in the wind, and yet the groans contin- 
ued to sound from the space behind the house. 
They were strange and startling. The rain had 
ceased and the moon was trying to become visible 
from behind a bank of black clouds. There was 
nobody in sight. 

The air was cold and damp. Will drew his over- 
coat tightly around him. As he stood there, how 
devoutly he wished that he were back in the little 
Brooklyn flat! A nameless dread oppressed him. 
He murmured an Ave., buttoned up his coat, and 
pursed up his lips to whistle, that he might have 
some comfort. But before he had uttered a sound, 
he heard a rustling in a pile of loose bricks at the 
right of the kitchen door. He whistled courageously, 
though a cold chill ran down his back, and almost at 
once there was a flash of light, and from the bricks 
arose a hideous figure. It was as tall as an average 
man. It seemed to be very thin and clothed in white. 
Its head was unusually large; its eyes were two balls 
of fire, and from its grinning mouth sulphurous flames 
seemed to come. It advanced slowly toward Will. 
The shock of this apparition was almost too much 
for his courage; he started back, and turned half 
way around as if to run. But Will, though not a 
very strong boy, was a brave one. As he turned, he 
felt ashamed of himself. He ascended the stone 
step in front of the kitchen door and waited. The' 
frightful creature paused. Then the wild shrieks 
from the back began again, and more slowly than 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 163 

ever the fiery-eyed phantom advanced toward Will. 

He wanted to flee now, but his feet seemed frozen 
to the ground. The creature stood still. Will could 
not run, but he had the use of his arms; he doubled 
up his right hand and struck a blow at the hideous 
face from which living flames shone. It dodged. 
This gave Will courage. He threw himself at the 
ghost with all his might, grasped it, and in a minute 
he found himself wrestling with something black on 
the ground. The ghost’s head had rolled among the 
bricks, and the light of its eyes had gone out. The 
black object was tangled up in its drapery. Will 
fought with all his strength. 

“ Oh, lemme go, — lemme go I ” cried a voice from 
the ground. “ Say, lemme go! take your fingers out 
o’ my hair! Say, I want you to know it’s my nose 
you’re punchin’. If you kill me. I’ll take the law 
on you! I ain’t no sperrit. Flesh and blood can’t 
stand this!” 

The dark object writhed and protested ; but Will 
held it tight. 

“Now,” he said. “I want you to tell me what 
you mean and who you are! ” 

“Well, if I must, I must, — but, say, don’t you be 
too hard on a fellow! My! but you’ve a powerful 
grip. Don’t kill me, and I’ll tell you all you want 
to know. Don’t choke me! — here, you let an or- 
phint alone! ” 

Will became aware that he was holding a boy 
smaller than himself. He could almost see his face 
as the moon rose from the bank of clouds. He be- 
came aware that the boy was painfully thin. It 
seemed to Will that he was all skin and bones. 

“ Come into the kitchen,” Will said, picking up the 


i64 the badgers of BELMONT. 

candle which had fallen from the hollow pumpkin 
which had served as the head of the ghost. “ Come! 
You shall tell me who you are; and if you meant 
this only as a trick, I'll be easy with you.” 

“ You were afraid at first, weren’t you ? ” asked the 
boy, moving before Will. “ You’re the only one that 
has not run away! Some of ’em yelled, and one of 
’em had fits, — one boy,” added the ex-ghost, with 
pride. “It was lots of fun; — but I wish I hadn’t 
monkeyed with you,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. 
“ You’ve got an aitfi/l grip! ” 

“I know it,” Will said quietly, “and I intend to 
keep that grip until you explain why you’re playing 
the ghost. Come on ! ” 

“You needn’t use me so rough,” the voice said. 
“Oh-h! Oh-h-h-h! You’ll break my arm. Lemme 
go, and I’ll tell you the truth.” 

“All right! ” Will said. “ You locked the kitchen 
door, — now open it.” 

“Yes, I did,” the voice said. “But I thought 
you were a tramp. You w'ere locked in before you 
knew it,” the voice added with a chuckle. “Who 
are you, anyway ?” 

“I’m William Badger, and I have a right here. 
Come on, and open the door! ” 

The boy no longer held back. He gave a long, 
low whistle. 

“All right! come,” he said. “Badger! what a 
queer name. I’m old Dodd’s nephew, and I’ve been 
hanging about here since the old man died. See?” 

“No, I don’t see, and I want to know w'hat you 
mean by frightening respectable people with your 
candle and pumpkin rind.” 

“You talk as if you owned the house. You 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 165 

ought to thank me. If I hadn’t rigged up that 
ghost, the tramps would have destroyed this house 
long ago, that’s Gospel truth.” 

There was something in the voice, which was boy- 
ish and rather shrill, which attracted Will. He re- 
laxed his grasp on the boy’s arm. The boy picked 
up the candle which had given the ghost its terribly 
luminous appearance, took a match from his pocket, 
and made a light. Will saw that he was smaller than 
himself, with bright eyes, and a thin, white face. 
The boy gave him the candle and unlocked the 
kitchen door. Will made the boy enter first. 

” Now,” he asked, “ what’s your name ? ” 

The boy put the candle on the cold kitchen stove. 

“I’m Cyrus Dodd,” he said. “I’m an orphint; 
I’m from Indianny. When my father and mother 
died, I was sent here to my uncle. I found that he 
had died, too, and so I just stayed.” 

Will saw that the boy’s clothes were ragged and 
his shoes worn out at the toes. 

“ How long have you been here ? ” 

“ About six months; — I had nowhere else to go. 
The folks about here are as mean as you make ’em, 
so I kept dark. I’m almost glad you’ve found me, — 
though I suppose I’ll have to go and be a tramp 
now.” 

“ No boy has a right to be a tramp in this coun- 
try,” said Will. “But what is that frightful noise?” 

The shrieks and groans from the back of the house 
had begun again. 

“Oh, that’s only the windmill,” said the boy. 
“ It ought to be oiled. I always let it loose at night, 
because it frightens passers-by and makes ’em keep 
away. Did you hear that last yell ? It almost scart 


i66 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


me. Sometimes, when the wind’s high, it is worse 
than that. A littje oil or grease will fix it all right. 
Hear now! ” 

A succession of blood-curdling groans filled the 
air. 

“But there is no use shivering here,” Cyrus said. 
“You come upstairs. I’ve got a lot of bags and 
corn-husk in the garret. You can git asleep, if you 
like. It’s warm up there, for the sun has been on 
the roof all day.’’ 

Will followed the boy upstairs. Cyrus unlocked 
the door of the attic, and revealed a long room with 
a slanting ceiling, from which hung bunches of dried 
herbs. There was a pile of corn-husk in one corner 
and several coarse bags. 

“ This is where I live. It isn’t much of a place.’’ 

Will did not answer. It certainly was a very poor 
place for anybody to live in. Impulsively, he said 
to the boy : 

“ Are you hungry ? ’’ 

“ I’m always hungry since the frost come. There’s 
nothing to be found in the fields, except raw turnips, 
and turnips and hickory-nuts make me sick, — I’ve 
had too much of ’em. I’d die if it wasn’t for the 
sweet potatoes.’’ 

“You can sleep there if you want to,’’ he said, 
throwing himself on the husks at the other side of 
the room. “This ain’t much of a place, — but it’s 
the only home I have.’’ 

“Good-night,” Will said. “You shall not be 
turned out of it. If you’re willing to work, I prom- 
ise that I’ll help you.” 

The boy jumped up and shook Will’s hand. Will 
saw that there were tears in his eyes. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 167 

CHAPTER IV. 

CYRUS. 

W ILL slept the sleep of the just. When he 
awoke, Cyrus Dodd had already disappeared. 
He saw that Cyrus had thought of him, however, for 
there was a basin of water by his side. Will washed 
and then looked about helplessly for a towel. For- 
tunately, Alice, the “little mother,” had supplied 
him with several handkerchiefs, and he wiped his 
hands and face on one of these. 

Cyrus came in when Will had completed his toilet 
by parting his hair with a match. 

“So you’re up!” he said. “I couldn’t get much 
breakfast for you; but you’re welcome to it.” 

Cyrus unrolled four roasted sweet potatoes from a 
piece of newspaper, and laid them on the floor, 

“I couldn’t get any milk,” Cyrus said. “The 
goat has strayed away.” He offered Will a battered 
tin cup filled with water. 

“ I was looking for a towel,” Will said. 

“A towel,” Cyrus repeated. “There isn’t any. 
When I wash, I just let the air dry me.” 

Will laughed. Cyrus spoke with great simplicity, 
as if such a proceeding were the proper thing. Will, 
as the two boys sat down to eat their frugal break- 
fast, had a chance of observing his companion. 
Cyrus was very thin and delicate looking, but the light 
in his bright hazel eyes and the comical curl of his 
lips when he spoke were very attractive. His clothes 
were patched everywhere, and unskilfully patched. 
His jacket was brown and green from exposure to the 
sun, and the cap which was stuck on top of a shock 


i68 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


of curly red hair lacked its rim. Will saw that he 
was poor and half starved. The boy had two pota- 
toes for himself, which he ate as if very hungry. 

“ How did you come to be here last night ? ” Cyrus 
asked. 

“ My train had been taken off the road, and I had 
no other place to go.” 

Cyrus’ face brightened. “You are going away, 
then?” 

“Oh, yes,” Will said. “I am going home this 
morning, I live in Brooklyn.” 

“You will not tell,” said the boy. “You’ll keep 
quiet about the ghost and the screams? I don’t 
mind whether you tell or not when you get home, — 
but while you’re here I wish you wouldn’t say there 
is no ghost.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Will, “ There is no ghost. It 
was only your fun.” 

“ It wasn’t fun,” said Cyrus. “ It was real earnest. 
If people didn’t think there was a ghost, they’d 
come here and live. Perhaps the owner would come, 
and then there would be no place for me. I’d have 
to leave, and I wouldn’t know where to go. Every- 
body thinks this house is haunted, and the rusty 
windmill helps. I always let it loose just after dark, 
and some nights it groans so that I am almost fright- 
ened.” 

“ Isn’t this rather a poor way to live ? ” Will asked. 

“But what can I do ? Uncle just died when I 
came here. I could not go back to Beedville, I had 
no money. I asked people to help me at first, but 
they called me a tramp and a ragamuffin. It’s all 
right,” Cyrus said bitterly, “it’s all right living in 
the world if you’re rich, if you can wear good clothes 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 169 

and a gold watch chain, but if you’re poor, you 
ain’t nobody.” 

“ Did you ever go to school ? ” Will asked, remark- 
ing the manner in which Cyrus spoke English. 

“ For a while — in Indianny — when pa and ma were 
alive. Sometimes I think I’d be better dead, for it’s 
awful to have no friends. I was almost glad last 
night when you found out that I was not a ghost, I 
was that glad to speak to somebody. You see I 
have to scout around at night for something to eat. 
It’s my only time. The other night I caught two 
squirrels in my trap. I had to roast them in the cel- 
lar. Oh, my! they were good! It’s lonely, — but 
when I cuddle up in the corn-husks and can get an 
old piece of a newspaper or a book, — I have had one 
or two good ones, — I’m contented enough. And 
when I feel cold I just dance.” 

Will finished his last piece of sweet potato and 
washed it down with water. 

“ Oh, I can dance,” Cyrus went on. “ I can dance 
like a Jim Dandy. I’ll have to dance a great deal 
to keep warm in the winter time. It’s going to be a 
mighty cold winter.” 

“Suppose the owners should come to live here, 
what would you do?” asked Will. 

“They wouldn’t stay,” said Cyrus with a chuckle. 
“You bet they wouldn’t stay. I’d make the ghost 
come again. They’d hear strange noises all the 
time. I’d make it hot for them. I don’t intend 
that anybody shall ever live here except me.” 

“Oh, I’ve forgotten to say my prayers,” Will said 
suddenly, and he went down on his knees and made up 
for his omission. In the goodness of his heart, he added 
a prayer for this queer boy, who sat watching him. 


I 70 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

“ I used to say my prayers to home, when pa and 
ma were alive; but everybody has been so mean to 
me since I growed up that I haven’t felt much like 
religion. I’m glad to see you, all the same, as you 
are not going to stay here, and there doesn’t seem to 
be anything mean about you. It’s good to have 
somebody to talk to. I did have a'dog, but he went 
away. Didn’t like my grub. So now I just talk to 
myself.” 

Will looked at Cyrus with real pity. “ Haven’t you 
a home anywhere?” 

“ No. Pa and ma died in the same week. The 
minister, who was a kind man, sent me here, in 
charge of a brakeman on the railroad. When I got 
here, Mr. Dodd was dead, and all his things had 
been taken away. Nobody seemed to care for him. 
All the same I wish he had lived. Pa and ma were 
always kind to me. Pa used to like to see me dance 
in the barn. I remember his laughing and saying, 
‘Why, Cy, your feet when you’re dancing a jig look 
like two bull pups jumping over each other!’ He 
was always a joker, father was, — but he’s gone!” 
Cyrus added, with a sigh, “He’s gone!” 

“You’ll meet him again, I hope,” Will said, “that 
is, if you’re good.” 

. Cyrus made no answer. “ I hope nobody will ever 
come here. By and by, people will forget about old 
Dodd, and I’ll come out in the daytime, and they’ll 
think I own the house. I’ll make it hot for the man 
that bought it. Say, don’t you give me away about 
the ghost. As long as the people about here think 
the place is haunted. I’m all right.” 

Will shook and brushed his overcoat. He was 
perplexed. He was sorry for this poor boy. He 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 171 

would have liked to promise him a home; he felt that 
he ought not to do so without Alice’s consent. 

“I should like to live here myself,” Will said; “I 
like the place.” 

“Oh, there ain’t anything here to like,” the boy 
said suspiciously. “ It’s cold, and if you can’t 
dance, you can’t keep warm. Then you’d have to 
grub around at night for something to eat and work 
the ghost racket, or you’d be driven out. Oh, you 
wouldn’t like it, not at all. It’s a dandy place for 
me, but I ain’t used to luxuries like you city boys. 
No; it would kill you to live here.” 

Will looked at Cyrus’ thin face and ragged clothes 
and thought that he would hardly live through the 
winter. He thought over the situation slowly, for 
Will was very prudent. What was his duty ? What 
would Alice do? 

“I may as well tell you the truth,” he said, after 
he had put on his overcoat. “ I am one of the owners 
of this house, and I and my sisters and brothers are 
coming very soon to live in it.” 

Cyrus’ face turned ashy in color. 

“And you’ve found out about the ghost!” 

“Yes, but that will not make any difference. You 
can live here and eat with us until you find a better 
place. It is the better way; you couldn’t live here 
during the winter.” 

Cyrus felt his legs grow weak beneath him. He 
sat down upon the bed of corn-husks. He turned 
his face away, and a hard, bitter feeling overcame 
him. Suddenly he faced Will, with his brow knit 
and his eyes blazing. 

“ I’ll burn down the house! ” he said. 

Will elevated his fist. 


172 


THE E AH GEES OF BELMONT. 


“Try it,” he said, advancing toward Cyrus. His 
Guardian Angel whispered into his ear. “ Come,” he 
added, “don’t let us fight. We’ll be friends. I 
promise you that you’ll have a happier time.” 

Cyrus looked into Will’s face, and the scowl left 
his forehead. “All right,” he said, taking Will’s 
hand, “ I can’t help myself.” 

Before Will left the house, he made a bargain with 
Cyrus. It was understood between them that Cyrus 
was to stay in the house and to look after it. Will 
wrote the following words on a slip of paper: 

I authorize the bearer to remain in this house until the owners 
take possession. 

William Aloysius Badger. 

Cyrus took the paper with some doubt. It was 
pleasant to think that he would not be obliged to 
hide as he had been hiding. And yet he had become 
so habituated to his mode of life that he was now 
almost afraid to meet human beings. And he thought 
of his clothes. How could he go among people like 
a ragamuiinn ? And then folks might find out that he 
had played the ghost trick and drive him away. On 
the whole, he began to wish that he had never seen 
Will. After Will had gone, he became suspicious, 
too. Perhaps these Badgers would turn him out. 
He did not see what right they had to his uncle’s 
house, anyhow. Suppose their father had bought it, 
he, Cyrus, ought to have the money. And he had 
not had aiiy of it. Maybe Will had only been fool- 
ing him. Then he remembered that Will had said 
his prayers, and a boy who had been so careful about 
his prayers could not lie. “If I thought,” Cyrus 
said, clenching his fist, “ if I thought he would fool 
me. I’d burn the old house down! ” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


173 


Will went his way, full of thought and hope. The 
house at Belmont could be made a home of. That 
was certain. He must find out about the church 
and school. Of course Alice could teach the little 
ones for a time at home. But if Clara and Malcolm 
came, as they no doubt would after their pouting 
mood had passed, a school would be absolutely 
necessary for them. 

As to a church, they must be within reach of a 
church! Will reached the station an hour before 
train time. The ticket-office and the lunch-room 
were not open yet. The same man whom he had 
seen the day before was sitting on a trunk that had 
recently been brought to the platform. 

“Well!” the man said. “Are you alive? Did 
you see the ghost ? ” 

“There was no ghost,” Will answered. “The 
windmill wants oiling, that’s all.” 

The man laughed. “You’re a brave boy, no 
doubt, but I’ll warrant you slept in the field last 
night, or in somebody’s barn.” 

Will did not answer. “ Is there a church about 
here ? ” he asked. 

“ There’s a Dutch Reformed over the hill yonder 
and the Methodys are building one.” 

“Oh,” said Will, in a disappointed way, “I mean 
a Catholic church.” 

“ Be you a Catholic?” asked the man, raising his 
eyebrows in surprise. 

“Yes, I am,” said Will. 

“Why, you ain’t Irish.” 

“All Catholics are not Irish.” 

“I thought they w^as all furriners,” the man said, 
taking out his pipe. “ We haven’t many hereabouts. 


174 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


The priest comes from Crossville every second Sun- 
day; he holds service near old Dodd’s house, in a 
barn Mr. Roberts lends him. It’s been made awful 
purty inside. It’s purtier than a hotel parlor.” 

Will was relieved. 

” There’s statoos there and a big cross. They 
must give some comfort to the Romish people. It’s 
said they worship ’em. Well, I’ve always said that, 
if it does ’em any good, they ought to be allowed to 
do it. What’s one man’s meat is another man’s 
poison. So you ain’t Irish ? ” 

“My mother was,” Will said, “ but my father’s 
people came over to Maryland with Lord Baltimore. 
They were always Catholics. I’m just as proud of 
my mother’s people, though. The Irish have always 
stood up for freedom.” 

“ I’m not denyin’ it,” said the man. “ You needn’t 
get so wrathy like. I think it’s against the 
American Constitution to worship images; — but the 
Chinese and the Eyetalians do it, and, if it helps 
to keep the Irish out of mischief, why let ’em 
alone.” 

“But they don’t,” said Will, flushing. 

“You’re a regular spitfire, young man,” the man 
said, rolling an enormous plug of tobacco in his 
mouth, “but I’m not easily riled. I’ve seen the 
Chinese in New York worshipping their gods and the 
Eyetalians have little pictures of saints with them. 
I’ve seen them at work on the railroad.” 

“It’s entirely different,” said Will. “We Catho- 
lics, whether we’re Americans or Irish or Italians or 
Germans, look on the pictures and statues of Our Lord 
and the saints just as you look on the portraits of 
your father and mother.” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 175 

“I ain’t got portraits of my father and mother; 
the daguerreotypes were broken up long ago.” 

“Of a little boy, maybe.” 

“Yes, I do set a good deal of store by Jefferson’s 
likeness, but I don’t think it can help me in any 
way.” 

“ Nor do we; — but we love the pictures of the little 
Child Jesus. It’s different with the Chinese; they 
are heathens; they think that their ugly gods in 
wood and stone can really help them ! ” 

“ That’s where they get left! ” said the man, with 
a laugh. “I’m glad all the Romanists are not Irish, 
anyhow, because they’re an awful sassy people. It’s 
all right, I’m willing to believe that you don’t wor- 
ship idols. I don’t care much myself, religion 
doesn’t bother me. Are you coming back here?” 

“Yes,” said Will, “ I am coming to live here. My 
father bought old Dodd’s house.” 

“You won’t like it; there’s no work here for any- 
body and farming doesn’t pay.” 

Will’s hopes fell somewhat. He was not a boy 
to be easily cast down. Besides, he believed that if 
he did his best, God would help him. There sounded 
a rumble in the distance, and the train came around 
the curve. Will jumped upon it in the greatest haste. 
For, like all inexperienced travellers, he imagined 
that it would start the moment he put his foo.t in the 
car. 

The journey homeward was uneventful. Will was 
so much occupied with the events of his visit that he 
did not even count the stations between Belmont and 
New York, as he had promised the twins to do. 

He thought of the woman and the hungry child, 
of the fears that had almost curdled his blood ; he 


176 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


laughed at Cyrus’ ghost and felt sorry for Cyrus. 
He thought of the man at the station and wondered 
how he could say such stupid things of the Catholics 
and of the Irish people. On the whole, he was 
cheerful. He had seen by the papers in his father’s 
box that his father had bought the house six years 
ago. Mrs. Ponsonby had become administratrix for 
the small estate, and she had told Alice and Will that 
Mr. Badger had regularly paid sums to old Mr. 
Dodd long before Mr. Dodd had died. There was 
now left the sum of two hundred dollars to be paid. 
Will asked himself how this could be done. He 
could not see the way clear. But doubtless Alice 
would find a plan. 

When he reached the flat, it was early in the after- 
noon. Alice met him in the doorway. 

“ Oh, Will,” she said, “ I have been so frightened. 
I had to hide it from the children. What kept 
you ? ” 

“I have a great deal to tell you,” he answered, 
“and, if you’ll give me some luncheon. I’ll do it. I 
have had strange adventures.” 

“And, oh. Will,” she said, “I have been so wor- 
ried about Malcolm! He did not come home last 
night until after midnight! ” 

Will looked grave. 

“ He was at the theatre,” Alice continued, as they 
ascended the stairs. “ He is asleep now. He says 
actors must sleep all day.” 

Will laughed grimly. 

“And, oh. Will,” she continued, tears filling her 
eyes, “I don’t know what I am to do! He came 
home smoking a cigarette ; he says all actors smoke. ” 

Will said nothing. This was not a pleasant wel- 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


177 


come. It was hard that Alice should throw the bur- 
den on him, he thought, forgetting that he had been 
in the habit of expecting her to solve all difficulties. 
He felt inclined to pity himself, as boys, who are 
more selfish than girls, often do when confronted by 
any difficulty. “I’d like to teach Malcolm a lesson 
or two with a whip,” Will said angrily. 

Seeing that her brother was angry, Alice forgot 
her worries, and brought into the dining-room a large 
dish of stewed beef and carrots and a piece of apple 
pie. Will used his knife and fork in silence, while 
Alice waited to hear his story, hovering over him, 
as careful sisters do, with the salt, the pepper, and 
the pulverized sugar for the pie. 

“I feel so much better,” Will said when the stew 
had disappeared. “ I’m so glad to get home. Mal- 
colm's only a child, after all. As Mrs. Ponsonby 
says, he’ll learn his lesson. Where is Clara?” 

“ Out with the twins. Oh, Will, I am so glad to 
see you again,” said Alice, giving him a hug. “ Now 
tell me all. And let us make our plans.” 


CHAPTER V, 


A TEMPTA TION 


HE prospect of freedom attracted Cyrus. It 



1 was pleasant to think that he might again ap- 
pear in the daytime. He went over and over again 
his talk with Will. Would Will keep his promise? 
Cyrus had received so much unkindness from people 
in his short life that he suspected everybody. This 
is often the irreparable result of our harshness to 


12 


178 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Others. An unkind word or act is like the yeast 
put into flour; it leavens the whole mass through 
and through in the silence of the night. It does its 
own work. 

Cyrus felt his weakness. He knew that he could 
not meet strength with strength, — so he used the 
weapon which strength drives the weak to use, the 
weapon of cunning and deceit. Cyrus was not a bad 
boy; he was a boy whose education had been ne- 
glected. And after Will had gone, he had determined 
to outwit him, if he could. If he could not have 
his uncle’s house, nobody else should, he said. Still, 
he would use Will’s scrap of paper to protect himself 
until he could think of some means by which he could 
keep possession of the house. 

After Will had gone, he stole out of the house to 
get a breath of fresh air. He clutched the scrap of 
paper in his hand. He breathed the keen air with 
delight; it was cold, but not sufficiently cold to be 
unpleasant. He saw the sparrows hopping about in 
the stubble, but he did not envy them now. He 
could hop about, too. He danced in the middle of 
the road until he could not be seen for the cloud of 
dust he raised. While he was engaged in this exer- 
cise, he did not notice that two people were approach- 
ing, Suddenly, with a wild whoop, he cut a pigeon- 
wing and ran to the side of the road. A scream was 
heard, and Cyrus found that he had pushed violently 
against a woman, who seemed bewildered by his 
appearance. 

Cyrus tried to run ; a desire to find a place in which 
to hide filled him. But he was held fast. 

“You wicked boy!” cried a little girl’s voice. 
“ How dare you frighten my mother?” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

Cyrus saw the kind face of Mrs. Forsythe before 
him and the eyes of Tillie looking at him angrily. 

“If there were any policemen here, I’d give you 
up to them! ’’ Tillie continued. “You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself! ’’ 

“ I was only dancing! ’’ Cyrus said. 

“Dancing!” exclaimed Tillie. “ So you call that 
dancing? It’s queer dancing! ” 

“ Hush, Tillie,” said her mother’s gentle voice. 
“ The boy could not help it. Could you show us 
where Mr. Dodd used to live?” she asked, turning 
to Cyrus. She was not at all anxious to know where 
Mr. Dodd had lived, but she knew that the best way 
to divert this unhappy-looking boy from his mishap 
would be to ask him a question. 

Cyrus looked up into Mrs. Forsythe’s kind, troub- 
led face and his heart warmed for her at once. 

“Over there!” he stammered, pointing backward. 
“I hope I didn’t hurt you, ma’am; I didn’t mean 
to.” 

“That’s no excuse!” snapped Tillie, frowning. 
“Clumsy people are always saying that.” 

“Tillie! Tillie!” said her mother warningly. 

Tillie tossed her head. She was a different little 
girl to-day. She was no longer pinched and timid 
and anxious. She had her supper and her breakfast, 
and her natural temper reasserted itself. 

“It’s too bad that he should have rushed against 
you like a big calf! I just hate such foolishness. I 
do! Look how nice that boy we met at the station 
was! ” Cyrus looked at her with interest. 

“ Do you mean Will Badger? ” 

“ I mean the boy that came yesterday and lost the 
train. He was most kind to mammy and me.” 


l8o THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

“ Did you believe in him ? ” asked Cyrus, raising 
his eyes to Mrs. Forsythe’s face. 

Mrs. Forsythe was startled by this serious question 
from this strange boy. 

“ Ffe was certainly a good, kind boy.” 

“ He seemed so. But they used to say at home that 
people are only kind when they want to use you. 
And I believe it! ” 

At ordinary times Cyrus would have been silent 
enough. But he had spoken so little of late that, as 
he said himself, he just felt like “hanging out his 
tongue and letting the wind wag it.” 

Tillie looked at him and said rather rudely: 

“ I don’t see what he could get out of you.” 

Cyrus colored. For the first time he realized how 
poor he was. Tillie’s words stung him to the 
quick. 

“Oh, Tillie! ” said her mother, “how often have 
I begged you not to say such things?” 

“ I know, mother, I know, — but I am sure that Will 
Badger’s kindness was unselfish. I don’t like to 
have that kind of talk. There are kind people in the 
world! ” 

“ It’s no disgrace to be poor! ” said Cyrus angrily, 
as Tillie fixed her sharp eyes on his ragged jacket. 

“Yes, it is,” retorted the little girl, “if you can 
work and don’t want to. I'll never wear ragged 
clothes while I can get work.” 

Cyrus looked at her, the angry flush still remaining 
on his cheek. 

“ Suppose your uncle’s house was sold to other 
folks and suppose you had no place to live?” 

“Your uncle’s house is not your house,” retorted 
Tillie, “ If it was yours and you sold it, you’d get 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. i8i 

money for it. If it was your uncle’s, you would 
not. ” 

“But,” said Cyrus, growing less angry, “if the 
house belonged to you when your uncle died and you 
found that other folks were going to take possession 
of it, what would you do?” 

“I’d burn it down!” snapped Tillie viciously. 
“That’s what I have been thinking of,” said 
Cyrus to himself. “You would, would you?” he 
said aloud. 

“Don’t mind the child,” Mrs. Forsythe said. 
“Try to get work and to do it well. Good-by!” 
They passed on. 

Anger made the boy’s blood boil again. “ He 
shall not have my house,” he said. “ I’ll burn it! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 

GOOD-BY I 

I T is not an easy thing to be mother of a family. 

Nobody knows how many sleepless hours a 
mother spends, when her birds are safe in their nest, 
planning and working for them. Who darns the holes 
in Johnny’s socks or sews the buttons on Jamie’s 
jacket when the fire burns low and the house is quiet ? 
Who thinks and plans that life may go as easily as 
possible for the small people but the mother? And 
when Christmas comes, who thinks of everybody but 
herself ? 

Alice found that there were many things to worry 
her. The obstinacy of Clara and Malcolm was bad, 
and there were other things. The dismantling of 


i 82 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


the flat was a task that fell to her and Will. Mrs. 
Ponsonby gave Alice much valuable advice, and 
saved her some money by her suggestions. 

The twins were filled with delight at the prospect 
of moving. Little children are pleased with any 
change. And then Will had said that there were 
rabbits at Belmont. They talked continually about 
rabbits. 

“Did you ever see what they call a Welsh ‘rab- 
bit ’ ?” asked Mrs. Ponsonby, who was looking after 
the children on the day before the Badgers started 
for Belmont. 

“Oh,” the children exclaimed, “tell us about the 
Welsh rabbits! Do they bite? Can you eat them ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Ponsonby, “you can eat 
them.” And she smiled. “If you will come to tea 
to-morrow evening, you shall eat them.” 

“Will you buy the rabbits alive 7 Or will you buy 
them dead 7 ” asked Sara. “ Do let us see them when 
you get them.” And she went up to stroke Mrs. 
Ponsonby’s cheek, as she always did when she wanted 
to coax the old lady. 

Mrs. Ponsonby laughed again. “Ah, my dears,” 
she said, “ many a time in old Virginia have I eaten 
a Welsh rabbit, — I must show Will how to cook it. 
'I'hey sometimes spell it ‘rarebit,’” added the old 
lady. Then she began to tell some of her plantation 
stories which the twins loved. 

Alice found great comfort in Mrs. Ponsonby, who 
knew how to keep the twins quiet. 

Malcolm and Clara gave little help in the moving. 
Malcolm was full of excitement; he and Clara held 
long conversations about theatrical matters, and took 
long walks together. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“Oh, if we were only united” Alice said to Will. 
“ I should not care how much I had to worry or how 
hard I had to work.” 

“I feel just like shaking Malcolm,” Will said. 
“For half a cent I’d give him such a whipping ” 

“Don’t talk that way, Will!” said Alice. “Oh, 
don’t talk that way! 

“Well, I won’t,” answered her brother. “I have 
a good mind to tell Mrs. Ponsonby not to let him live 
in her rooms. He’d soon find out how easy it would 
be to live on twenty-five cents a day in a city like 
this! ” 

“No, — no,” said Alice in alarm, “don’t! Mal- 
colm would suffer too much, and as Clara will stay, 
Mrs. Ponsonby ’s is the only place for her.” 

Nevertheless, Alice suffered greatly as she thought 
of leaving the two. Will and she talked over what 
might be done for Cyrus Dodd, and she became 
greatly interested in him. She would have liked to 
go to Belmont, to put the old house in order. But 
she feared to spend a cent more than was really 
necessary, and she believed that she and Will could 
set things right when they were once on the spot. 
And, besides, Cyrus would doubtless give some 
assistance. 

On the day after Thanksgiving the Badgers were 
ready to start for Belmont. Mrs. Ponsonby had ad- 
vised them to send all their household goods in 
advance. Still, there were many baskets and bundles 
to be looked after. 

Malcolm and Clara had consented to go with them 
to the Grand Central Station. Mrs. Ponsonby said 
farewell at the Bridge. Tears filled the old gentle- 
woman’s eyes, 


184 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“God bless you, Alice,” she said, as she gave her 
a rose purchased from the man with the glass case of 
flowers near the Bridge entrance. “God bless you! 
I feel as if I were parting from a daughter.” 

Malcolm was too much occupied by himself to feel 
very sad at the parting. Clara wept aloud, as she 
kissed the twins good-by at the train gate; but she 
soon consoled herself with the memory that she, too, 
had been engaged as a peasant girl at the theatre 
where Malcolm had already begun his career. 

Alice buried her face in her hands, and Will had to 
turn his face away, for fear the twins should see him 
crying. 


CHAPTER VII. 

CYRUS MEETS THE BADGERS. 

C YRUS spent several unhappy days. He had de- 
termined to set fire to the house. What right 
had strangers in it ? he asked. Here he, the nephew 
of Mr. Dodd, was without a home, while new people 
were to come in, to take what should have been his. 

An unreasoning impulse to destroy the house 
moved him at times. He saw nothing of the 
Forsythes after his first interview with them. He 
wandered in the lonelier places in the daytime, not 
daring — so hard is habit to get rid of — to show him- 
self among the people of the neighborhood. Once a 
man asked him to burn some great piles of leaves, 
and, when he had done so, gave him a five-cent 
piece. He did not spend it, though he passed the 
grocery shop near the station, where bread was sold, 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 185 

and longed for some. He was afraid to enter the 
shop. People, when they did see him, looked after 
him and spoke of him as “that queer boy.” 

It was cold in the old house at Belmont, and the 
idea of setting the house on fire possessed him. One 
night he felt that he might do it just to keep warm. 
Rut the memory of Will’s kindly words came to him, 
and restrained his hand. After all, he said. Will 
Badger had an honest face. Still, the house was his. 
If Will Badger’s father had paid for it, he had never 
seen the money. He might burn the house, if he 
wanted to, and do nobody any harm — thus he rea- 
soned. Somehow he could not get Will’s honest look 
out of his mind, and he remembered, too, that the For- 
sythes had said he had been kind to them. 

“I’ll wait,” he thought; “if I find that I can trust 
him. I’ll let the house stand. If not, I’ll put a 
match to it and send it up in smoke. I’ll not have 
strangers putting on airs over me.” 

It happened that there was an old woman who was 
about to move away 'from Belmont. She lived in a 
secluded spot— near one of the hollows he visited 
every day in hope of catching a rabbit. She saw 
him and asked him to helpher in various ways; — and 
so for the few days just previous to the Badgers’ 
arrival he was too busy to cherish any evil thoughts. 
The old woman made him eat his dinners with her, 
and, in fact, being a prudent old dame, she paid him 
in that way for his work. When a postal card came 
from Will Badger announcing that he would come on 
the day after Thanksgiving, Cyrus was almost 
pleased. 

About noon, Alice, Will, and the twins reached the 
station. Cyrus hid behind the wide post that held 


i86 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


the letter-box. He watched the little party, deter- 
mined to run away if he should not like the looks of 
the folks who composed it. But when John and Sara, 
well wrapped up and looking like round, fat balls, 
came tumbling along with a big basket, he could not 
help laughing. Will heard his laugh, and caught 
sight of him. 

“Why, Cyrus,” he said, “is that you? Come, 
help us! I hoped that you would be here.” 

Cyrus, assured by his look and cordial tone, came 
from behind the post. 

“ This is Cyrus, Alice,” Will said, “ the boy I spoke 
of.” 

“Yes, — I remember,” Alice said, smiling, as she 
put down a big band-box to shake hands with him. 
Cyrus put out his hand bashfully, while the twins 
smiled. 

“ Oh, what a funny boy! ” whispered Sara. 

John simply stared, but Cyrus was too much 
occupied with his own embarrassment to notice 
them. 

Alice’s face lost its worried look, and she said 
cordially : 

“ I am glad to see you, Cyrus, — I am sure we shall 
be friends.” 

At the same time, she could not help thinking how 
thin and ill-clad the boy was. He blushed, mut- 
tered, “Thank you, ma’am,” and seized the biggest 
box, as well as the band-box Alice had dropped. 

“You leave me nothing to carry, ’’she said gayly. 
“ I wonder if the furniture has come.” 

“It’s up at the house in big boxes,” Cyrus said, 
wishing now that he had unpacked it, so that this 
nice girl and the children might find the house less 


THE BADGERS OF BELMOHT. 


187 


gloomy. It was too late to do that now. But he 
resolved that he would do what he could, and he was 
glad — as he looked at the twins — that he had not 
burned the house. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE NEW HOME. 



HE day was delightful, and Alice saw the old 


1 house under the best possible circumstances. 
There had been a slight snow the day before, and 
the sun had melted it so that every touch of green in 
the fields seemed almost the green of spring. The 
field of winter wheat near the railway station shone 
so bright that Alice exclaimed , — “ Oh, how green the 
grass is! ” 

This made Cyrus laugh. Alice would have be- 
Hieved Cyrus to be ignorant if he said that he did 
not know that there was a statue of the late Mr. 
Beecher in front of the Brooklyn City Hall; she was 
surprised when she saw by his face that he thought 
her ignorant when she showed that she did not know 
grass from winter wheat. 

The mistake was soon set right by the country 
boy. It put him in a good humor. 

Alice enjoyed the very air, and the twins frolicked 
like young lambs. 

“I declare. Will,” she said, “John and Sara’s 
cheeks are rosier already! ” 

The noses and the cheeks of the twins were very 
red indeed. And, instead of trotting along quietly, 
they yelled and screamed after a manner they had 


i88 


THE BADGEkS OF BELMONT, 


never attempted in Brooklyn, Alice said to herself 
that there certainly seemed to be a great deal of life 
in country air. 

A new spirit took possession of Cyrus. 

“ I feel just as if it were the day before Christmas 
and mother was alive!” he said, as he dropped his 
heavy load on the front porch. “Now, Will, I’ll 
make a fire in the kitchen oven,” he said, “and if 
you have anything to eat, we can cook it.” 

Alice had brought some eggs and tomatoes and 
macaroni in her stores, and, as it was Friday, she 
chose them instead of the sausage and dried beef and 
ham she had with her. The twins were hungry and 
demanded “something hot.” Will said that they 
could work better, if they could eat something more 
solid than pie and sandwiches. Alice, casting a 
longing eye at the packing cases and the unexplored 
rooms of the house, drew from a hamper the needful 
utensils. Will made a fire, and Cyrus propped up 
the three-legged table. The twins rushed through 
the unoccupied rooms, imitating a herd of ponies. 

In half an hour a large dish of macaroni and an 
omelet had been produced, and to this was added 
some coffee which caused tears to come into Cyrus’ 
eyes. 

“ I haven’t had anything like this,” he said, “ since 
I was to home. Ma used to make it like this! ” 

Alice was pleased by this artless compliment. 
After the meal, which was a merry one, Cyrus and 
Will broke open the packing boxes. Everything was 
in good order, except an ancient clock, which had 
been smashed. Alice mourned for an instant over 
the wreck. This old kitchen clock was a friend of 
hers, and she hated to see it come to so sudden an 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 189 

end. She was glad to find that the crayon picture of 
her father, which was in the same box, was safe. 

Alice wisely resolved to make two bedrooms and 
the kitchen comfortable. The cribs of the twins 
were carried upstairs and made ready, so that they 
could be put to bed the moment they became sleepy. 

At nightfall everybody was tired. Alice had sur- 
veyed the house and planned as well as she could. 
There was a little room in the corner of the house, — 
a “cubby hole,” as Sara called it. Into this Alice 
put a little iron bed which had been Malcolm’s. She 
made the room very comfortable. And after the 
supper of oatmeal porridge. Will showed Cyrus the 
little room. 

“ It is yours,” he said. 

Cyrus answered nothing; but when all were in bed, 
he went out and oiled the windmill. No ghost ap- 
peared that night, and the nearest neighbors, who 
expected that the new-comers would flee from the 
haunted house about midnight, were surprised that 
they did not arrive. In the morning it was the gen- 
eral opinion among the neighbors that they had been 
killed. 

The next morning was bright and crisp. Thanks 
to Cyrus, the kitchen fire burned brightly, and Alice 
and the twins “took a run,” as they called it, over 
the wild strawberry leaves that carpeted the space 
opposite the house. Sara found a bunch of the red 
haws of wild rose, and John was delighted to discover 
a number of puff balls. 

“It’s better than a picnic! ” Sara said, and John 
yelled, as he came upon a store of acorns: 

“What jolly little cups! The birds must drink 
from them.*” 


1 90 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“ No,” said Sara, “ the fairies. Isn’t it the fairies, 
Alice ? ” 

The dispute showed signs of becoming violent 
when John saw a number of fungi. 

‘‘Mushrooms! Mushrooms!” the twins said. 

“No,” Alice answered, examining the yellowish 
little umbrellas, “ these are poisonous. I think the 
little gills — do you see them? — ought to be pink; 
but I don’t know. We must ask Cyrus. Never eat 
these fungi." 

“They grow up in a single night,” Sara said 
learnedly. 

“I know ihat^ I knew that before you were born,” 
said John triumphantly. 

“Did he, Alice?” cried Sara. 

“Girls always know less than boys,” said John. 

“ Do they, Alice ? ” appealed Sara. “ I know how 
to sew and he doesn’t.” 

“You can’t play Rugby! ” 

“ Children ! ” said Alice, smiling. “ You forget the 
little Child Jesus never quarrelled! ” 

The twins took each a hand of hers, and called 
out; 

“Oh, we love you, sister Alice!” 


CHAPTER IX. 


CLARA. 



RS. PONSONBY sat in front of her brightly 


iVl burning stove on the day after Alice and Will 
had gone. Her room was neat and cosy. A pot of 
red geraniums stoovi against the white curtain of the 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. IQI 

window, its scarlet blossoms glowing even more 
vividly than the coals in the grate. It was late in 
the afternoon, and she was waiting for the return of 
Clara and Malcolm. 

Mrs. Ponsonby was fond of the young people, 
although she saw their faults. It is a mistake to be- 
lieve that true love is blind; it is keenly anxious to 
correct faults. The old gentlewoman was thinking 
of her two charges, while she watched the soup boil- 
ing on the stove, and occasionally opened the oven 
door to see that the mince pie was browning nicely. 
She was full of anxiety. She began to see that she 
had undertaken a great responsibility; it seemed 
heavier than when her dear Alice lived across the 
street. 

A knock at the door sounded, and Mrs. Ponsonby 
crossed the two rooms that led to it. Clara entered, 
with flaming cheeks and bright eyes. 

“Oh, dear Mrs. Ponsonby,” she said, taking off 
her hat, “ I am to have a part ; I am engaged at the 
theatre; I am an actress.” 

She threw her cloth jacket upon a chair and tossed 
her hat upon it. 

“My dear,” said Mrs. Ponsonby, kissing her, 
“suppose you show me how a little lady should act 
in her own house.” 

Clara looked startled. Then she understood, took 
her hat and jacket and flung them in the closet of 
her room. 

“I forgot,” she said, as she came back. “But, 
oh, dear Mrs. Ponsonby, I could hug you, I am so 
delighted. Malcolm took me to the theatre. We 
went in the back way through a long dark passage. 
I was frightened; but Malcolm went ahead as if he 


19 ^ the BADGEkS OF BELMONT. 

owned the place — you see he has been on the stage 
for some time now. At last we saw in front of us 
the theatre, full of empty seats, dark and desolate — 
so different from what it is at night ! The stage was 
just a floor of dirty boards. And the scenery looks 
so different when you are near it — so entirely differ- 
ent !” 

Mrs. Ponsonby opened the oven door, looked at 
her pie, and said “ Go on ” so calmly that Clara was 
surprised. 

“Oh, Mrs. Ponsonby,” she said, “you don’t seem 
at all excited ! ” 

“ I am not,” answered Mrs. Ponsonby, with a smile. 
“ My pie would excite me — if it burned.” 

“ Malcolm took me to the manager, who was or- 
dering a crowd of men about. He looked‘at me. 
‘Umph,’ he said, ‘can you sing a little ? ’ ‘A little, ’ 
I said, ‘but I would prefer to recite.’ ‘We don’t 
want any Curfew-Shall-Not-Ring-To-night business 
here,’ he said quite rudely. ‘If you want to earn 
fifty cents a night, you can report for rehearsal to- 
morrow at II o’clock.’ He just nodded, and Mal- 
colm and I came away. I felt rather hurt, but, Mrs. 
Ponsonby, Charlotte Cushman had, you know, a 
similar experience, and she was the greatest Ameri- 
can actress that ever lived ! Isn’t it lovely! I’m to 
be an Italian peasant girl in ‘The Rose Queen.’ 
Isn’t it lovely ? ” 

Mrs. Ponsonby did not answer at once. She took 
off the lid of her soup kettle, and let the savory odor 
out. 

“ Oh, isn’t it lovely ? ” 

“What?” asked Mrs. Ponsonby. 

“The soup — this time,” said Clara laughing. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 193 

“ Oh, I shall be great — I know I shall. Everybody 
that has heard me speak praises me — everybody. 
You should hear me do ‘Spartacus ’ or ‘Young Loch- 
invar’ — 

“ ‘ Young Lochinvar came out of the west ’ ” 

“Don’t!” said Mrs. Ponsonby, smiling. “There 
is a time for everything, and now it is time to set the 
table. I hear Malcolm’s step.” 

Malcolm’s step was hasty; he was hungry; he ad- 
mitted that he had been detained at the corner by a 
dog fight, which had not interested Clara. 

Mrs. Ponsonby sent him downstairs for coal at 
once. She was a believer in the doctrine that all 
play and no work makes Jack a worthless boy. 
Malcolm, who would have preferred to begin his 
dinner at once, brought up two buckets of coal with 
the best grace possible. 

Mrs. Ponsonby placed a silver vase in the centre 
of the table, with a bunch of her geraniums in it, and 
went into her room to smooth her hair and to put 
on another gown. She returned smiling and cheer- 
ful. 

Malcolm and Clara did not say so, but they felt 
sad as they sat at Mrs. Ponsonby’s table. What 
were Alice and Will and the twins doing ? Were they 
sad too? In spite of her excitement over her ad- 
mission into the rank of actresses, Clara wiped tears 
from her eyes. After all, Alice was so good and 
kind, and Will was one of the best brothers in the 
world. 

Malcolm choked a certain feeling which was like 
lonesomeness by assuming an air of importance. 

“ I must go, Mrs. Ponsonby. I have never tasted 
such good pie. But they’ll be waiting for me at the 

13 


194 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


theatre. I’m one of the bandits in ‘Ingomar ’ to- 
night.” 

“ I suppose the play cannot goon without you,” 
said Mrs. Ponsonby. 

“Well, I can’t say that; but they’d have to get 
another man,” said Malcolm, and as he reached for 
his coat, a cigarette fell from his pocket. 

“Oh, Mrs. Ponsonby,” Clara said, after he had 
gone, “ Malcolm is not like himself — he is rougher. 
It would be awful if he should turn out bad!” 

Mrs. Ponsonby did not answer; she took up her 
knitting and thought, while Clara removed the 
dishes. 


CHAPTER X. 


r//£ YOUNG REFORMER. 



HRISTMAS approached. The time spent by the 


Badgers at Belmont had not been altogether 
happy. Alice worried greatly about Clara and Mal- 
colm. She prayed for them with all her might; she 
made a novena and began the six Sundays. She had 
brought order into the house, though her carpets did 
not fit all the rooms. She succeeded in making Cyrus 
comfortable in the little room in the corner of the 
house, and the kitchen and dining-room and bedrooms 
were neat and cosy. Will and Cyrus were very useful 
to her. Will had brought his box of tools, and as he 
knew how to use them, the house inside began to 
assume a new appearance. Alice determined not to 
attempt to furnish a parlor. She put her father’s 
books in that room, and the few ornamental things 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


195 


which she wanted to keep safe. The dining-room 
faced southward, and the kitchen was like a palace to 
her after the narrow room of the same kind in the 
flat. 

There was plenty of wood. Will and Cyrus kept 
the house well supplied. The' grove on the grounds 
was full of oak and maple trees of all sizes. Alice 
had never known such gloriously blazing fires before. 

She had brought from the city a full supply of 
coffee, sugar, and such things. Her father’s em- 
ployer had kindly sent these. Cyrus had driven 
some hard bargains for potatoes, onions, and apples, 
and had bought a pig, killed and dressed. Alice and 
Will found that he knew more about these things than 
they did; they permitted him to attend to the pro- 
viding of what they needed. 

There was no school near. Alice taught the twins 
their catechism, and Will undertook the reading, 
geography, and arithmetic. But the twins liked 
Cyrus’ lessons best of all. He taught them how to 
use the tools. And even Sara learned to make a 
wooden box for her books. 

Alice found that they could live cheaply. It 
bothered her to know that they had not yet found a 
way of earning money. There was still an instal- 
ment due on the house; it must be paid in January, 
and as yet no money had been earned. Still, Alice 
felt that she could have endured this anxiety if Clara 
and Malcolm were only home for Christmas. 

Will had become anxious, too. He liked the life 
at Belmont. He was growing stronger and rosier 
every day, and the twins were as plump as well-filled 
apple dumplings with dimples in them. Malcolm and 
Clara had at first written letters full of their theatri- 


196 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

cal triumphs. Of late their letters had ceased, and 
Mrs. Ponsonby had hurt her hand, so no letters 
came from her. 

Cyrus liked the Badgers. He was contented with 
them. There was only one thing that worried him. 
They were Catholics. This not only worried him, 
but made him unhappy. 

Sara and John were the happiest people at Bel- 
mont, and even they had moments of uneasiness, for 
Sara was doubtful whether St. Nicholas would send 
her a doll or not, and John was afraid that he would 
not get a Rugby foot-ball. 

Cyrus had moments when he felt it a duty to burn 
the house and to run away from these people. The 
crucifix in his room frightened him; every night he 
laid it carefully in the drawer of his washstand and 
hung it in its place in the morning. One night he 
was tempted to run away, and to set fire to the house 
before doing so. He looked through the half-open 
dining-room door and saw the four busy with their 
rosary. Even Sara had large red beads in her hands, 
and she seemed very devout. Cyrus liked Sara; she 
was fond of him, too; he shuddered to think that she 
was an idolater, like the rest, for they all knelt be- 
fore the statue of Our Lady, with two candles 
burning. 

It seems strange that in America there should be a 
boy so ignorant as Cyrus. He had been taught in 
the far-away Indiana village that Catholics were 
worse than pagans, and that in associating with 
them he was doing wrong. Alice or Will did not 
dream of this; they would not have believed it if 
anybody told them. Such ignorance would have 
seemed impossible. And yet the people about Bel- 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


197 


mont were similarly ignorant. They avoided the 
Badgers, first because they lived in the haunted 
house; then, because Alice dressed in the “city 
fashion,” they thought that she was “stuck up.” 
Afterward, when they found that the Badgers were 
Catholics, they resolved to have nothing to do with 
them. 

Cyrus knew this, and it was the principal reason 
why he had agreed to do the buying for the family. 

“I’ve a good mind to burn the house down,” he 
said to himself. “ Pa would turn in his grave if he 
saw such paganism. But Will and Alice are good, 
and Sara and John are sweet little children. Per- 
haps they don’t know better — I’ll just tell them what 
I think!” 

He threw the door open. 

“Stop this!” he cried. “I’ll have no paganism 
here. Aroyntye!” 

He had seen the term, “Aroynt ye!” in a book; 
it seemed appropriate. 

Alice turned her face toward him reproachfully, 
and went on with her ‘‘''gloria.” Sara looked at him 
and giggled. “Oh, John,” she whispered, “look at 
Cy — how funny he looks! ” 

She caught Alice’s eye and resumed her beads de- 
voutly. Cyrus stood still, holding the handle of the 
door, half afraid, but trying to screw his courage up. 
He remembered what his father had told him about 
John Knox and other breakers of idols. 

When Alice had finished the last decade, she put 
out the candles. 

“I will not go in,” said Cyrus, m the sepulchral 
tone he had acquired while acting as a ghost, “ until 
you break yonder image.” 


198 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Alice looked amazed; the twins laughed outright. 

“ Oh, Cy, you are too funny! ” giggled Sara. 

“I’ll break it myself then,” said Cyrus advancing. 

“Cyrus! — what do you mean?” exclaimed Alice. 

“ I mean that there must be an end of Romish 
superstitions,” Cyrus said firmly. “There must be 
no idols in this house.” 

He took the broom which stood in a corner of the 
room and moved toward the serene, white statue. 

Alice seized the twins in fear; — had Cyrus gone 
crazy ? 

He raised the broom. Will caught his right arm. 

“ Raise the window! ” Will said. “ Raise the win- 
dow, Alice!” 

Alice did not question; she always obeyed Will. 
She threw up the sash. 

Cyrus felt both his arms grasped. The broom fell 
from his hands. The cold air blew on his face; he 
struggled manfully. Then his hands were buried in 
soft snow;, and he saw stars, — because the stars were 
out and because of the suddenness of his fall. 


CHAPTER XI. 

EXPERIENCE TEACHES. 

M rs, PONSONBY went with Clara to the theatre 
every afternoon and evening during that young 
person’s engagement in “The Rose Queen.” 

It was Malcolm’s opinion that Clara could take 
care of herself, and Clara shared this. But in spite 
of the cold and rain and sleet, Mrs. Ponsonby insisted 
on standing in a corner behind the scenes every night. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


199 


Clara had only to stand for fifteen minutes in a 
group of three, dressed in Neapolitan costume, while 
the lady who acted “ The Rose Queen ” walked in a 
procession and sang a song. Malcolm appeared 
twice in processions. He carried a bright sword 
before a victim about to be executed, and, later, 
changed his dress and wore a coat of mail ; and at 
the end of the week he received one dollar and a 
half. Clara had twice that sum, though she made 
part of the group only once. But then she had to 
go every day at eleven o’clock and rehearse until 
one. It was hard work, for she had to stand all the 
time in the cold theatre. Besides, she found that 
people laughed at her when she talked of her elocu- 
tion. 

“Everybody can speak pieces here,” said the girl 
who rode a mule in the market scene. “ That doesn’t 
count. It’s just sticking to your post and fighting 
that counts. Some day I shall sing in the front row 
and get ten dollars a week.” 

Clara found that she was nobody. The girls were 
rude, and the manager swore at her once when she 
moved a little out of the position marked for her. 
And when she was placed in front of Mercy Sedge- 
wich, who was in her group, Mercy pinched her 
savagely, knowing that she dare not stir nor cry out. 

Malcolm did not like the company he was in. At 
the end of the second week, a crowd of the other 
boys gathered about him as he came out of the stage 
door. 

“You’ve got to treat, Badger,” said Mark Sedge- 
wich, Mercy’s brother. “It’s got to be beer all 
around.” 

Malcolm looked at the ten boys gathered about 


200 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


him in a circle, most of them with faces from which 
the theatrical paint had not been washed. 

“ I don’t drink, boys,” he said. “ Let me go! ” 

“But ive drink,” said Sedgewich. “And you can 
run out with the beer can. Say the beer’s wanted 
by one of the stage carpenters, — beer for ten. They 
won’t sell it to boys.” 

“I can’t afford it,” said Malcolm, “but I don’t 
mind having lemonade and cakes. I won’t buy beer, 
though; I promised father I wouldn’t drink.” 

“Oh, daddy’s boy! — daddy’s boy!” the group 
cried, forming a circle as they did as imps in “ The 
Rose Queen ” and dancing around him. “ Give up 
your cash, or you can’t work with this crowd!” 
Sedgewich said. He snatched Malcolm’s money, 
and ran off. The boys yelled, and dragged Malcolm 
to a shed near the theatre. There they waited until 
Sedgewich came back with a large can full of beer 
and a package of rolls and corned-beef. 

Malcolm, burning with anger, watched them. He 
longed to use his fists on the crowd before him. 
The boys each took a drink from the can. Finally, 
it was offered to him. He refused. Sedgewich 
sprang upon his back suddenly and drew him to the 
ground. Three of the boys held him down, while 
two others tried to pour the foaming liquor into his 
mouth. He shut his teeth tight, and the beer poured 
over his neck and deluged his collar and shirt front. 
He kicked and struggled. It was useless; but the 
beer was spilled and when Malcolm had stumbled to 
his feet, Sedgewich’s nose was bleeding and another 
boy had to tie a handkerchief over his right eye. 

After this, the boys kept clear of Malcolm, but 
they did every possible thing to annoy him. They 


rilE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


201 


hid his banner, the)' stole the glittering helmet he 
wore, and blamed him for all sorts of mishaps. Long 
before Christmas, all the romance of theatrical life 
had worn off. Instead of light and color and excite- 
ment, he found dust and shabbiness and ill-feeling 
behind the scenes. Life there meant work — and un- 
remitting work — among companions who were coarse 
and jealous and selfish. Malcolm was shocked when 
he saw Mercy Sedgewich, after a reconciliation with 
Clara, leaving the theatre arm in arm with her. 

The magnificent palace of the Rose Queen, covered 
with glittering dew-drops, was only pink gauze and 
silver paper, which looked dull enough when the cal- 
cium light was not turned upon it. And both Mal- 
colm and Clara felt like getting away from the place 
when they heard the rough words used on all sides 
of them. Twice the young woman who represented 
Ariel., with golden wings and a wand with a star 
upon it, fainted after she had danced before the 
Queen, in the palace of roses. But she was re- 
stored; and the poor creature had to go out again, 
pale beneath her paint, and to dance, with a set 
smile on her face. The roses which looked so pink 
and fresh from the front, were of faded muslin and 
paper, and as false as the smiles of the dancer. 

Clara was disenchanted; she no longer imagined 
that she could become a great actress. She wanted 
to get away. 

“ Anything is better than this. Oh, Mrs. Pon- 
sonby,” she said, “ I must stop going to the theatre. 
It’s not what I expected.” 

“But you must earn your living,” said Mrs. Pon- 
sonby, “ Until Christmas you and Malcolm will be 
my guests. After that you must pay your board.” 


202 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“Oh, but I must do something else! ” said Clara. 
“ The work is too hard.” 

“Why did you insist on going to the theatre?” 
asked Mrs. Ponsonby. 

“ Because,” answered Clara, “I thought it would 
be all lights and pretty dresses, and,” she blushed, 
but went on, “praises and compliments for me; but 
I am just nobody.” 

“But we must all be content to be ‘just nobody’ 
for a time, until the value of our work is recognized. 
Good work counts everywhere, but it must be good, 
hard, earnest work — not merely for display. Yours 
was for display. It has not been done with the in- 
tention of helping Alice; it has been simply done for 
yourself. That sort of work never assists in making 
us happy.” 

Malcolm, who was walking homeward with Clara 
and Mrs. Ponsonby, seemed thoughtful. He had 
learned to hate the theatre. 

“It is a slavish life,” he said. “I am ordered 
about like a dog. It’s ‘Badger, don’t hold your 
head like a jackass,’ ‘Badger, you look like a fool, — 
step forward a little.’ And the assistant manager 
swears at me whenever he chooses.” 

Clara sighed. 

“Well,” Mrs. Ponsonby said, “the work pays 
something. You have chosen. You can endure it 
for the love of God and to earn your living.” 

“ I hate it! ” said Clara. “ Oh, dear, if papa could 
see me among those rough, loud girls, — all painted 
and powdered.” 

“ Many of the girls work that their parents and 
brothers and sisters may have coal and bread. That 
is a nobler motive than you have.” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


203 


“ That’s true,” said Malcolm, “ I went on the stage 
because I thought people would praise me.” 

“ An unworthy motive,” said Mrs. Ponsonby,“ and I 
am glad you were disappointed. Theatrical life is very 
dangerous. There are many good people connected 
with the theatre ; they have been strengthened to resist 
temptations. But if your motive is selfish and* vain, 
you can’t expect to receive grace to overcome them.” 

She walked on in silence. 

“I must find another way of earning money,” said 
Malcolm, “or I’ll just go down to Belmont and do 
nothing.” 

“And have Alice and Will work for you?” asked 
Mrs. Ponsonby. 

Malcolm groaned. 

“ Life is so hard.” 

“Until we learn to make it easy for others,” Mrs. 
Ponsonby said; “then we forget ourselves.” 

“You are content,” said Clara; “you have no 
troubles.” 

“ I have one great trouble, and I shall tell you of 
it some day.” 

That night Clara and Malcolm said their prayers 
very humbly and contritely; they were beginning to 
be homesick. 


CHAPTER XII. 

WHO COMES 'ROUND MY HOUSE TO-NIGHT? 

S soon as Will had landed Cyrus outside the win- 



dow, he began to feel sorry for it. It occurred 
to him that he might have found another way of 
teaching the boy a lesson. 


204 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Cyrus stood up, brushed the snow from his clothes, 
and opened the door. He was intensely angry. 

He determined to get his hat and to depart from 
out of this house of idolatry. All the kindness he 
had received was for the moment obliterated from 
his mind. 

Will met him inside the door, and held out his 
hand. 

“I am sorry, Cyrus," he said. “I had to do it.” 

“And I had to do it,” said Cyrus, scowling and 
holding his hand behind his back. “ I don’t want 
anything to do with idolaters.” 

“ If you talk that way. I’ll throw you out again! ” 
cried Will, his face flushing. 

“Try it!” Cyrus exclaimed, with blazing eyes. 
“ I say again I don’t want to live with idol-worship- 
pers ! ” 

The two boys faced each other. Cyrus was thin- 
ner than Will, but he had stronger muscles. Will 
drew a long breath and raised his fist; Cyrus put 
himself on guard. At this moment Alice entered. 

“Will, — for shame!” she said. “Cyrus, what do 
you mean ? ” 

Cyrus uncrooked his elbow and turned to Alice. 

“ Your brother threw me out the window because I 
objected to the worshipping of idols.” 

Will spoke up and made his explanation. Alice 
went up, to take Cyrus by the hand. He gave it to 
her with a show of reluctance. 

“ If anybody maliciously broke your mother’s pic- 
ture, what would you do?” she asked. 

“ Punch his head! ” answered Cyrus promptly. 

“Well, the statue of the Mother there is as dear to 
us as your mother’s picture is to you. And Will 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


205 


would be just as quick to resent any insult to it as 
you would any insult to your mother’s picture. If 
he wouldn’t,” said Alice, with a flash in her eyes, “I 
wouldn’t want him for a brother of mine! ” 

Cyrus cast an angry look at Will, for the big bump 
on his forehead smarted very much. 

“Will,” Alice said, “you mustn’t bear ill will. 
We can’t convince Cyrus that we are right by fight- 
ing with him. And I am sure that if Cyrus consid- 
ers well my words, he will not insist on believing 
that we worship idols. That statue is my Mother’s, 
— and my own mother and father are in the care of 
that dear Lady now.” 

Cyrus looked at Alice’s gentle face, and his anger 
grew less. 

“I am sorry,” Will said, grasping Cyrus’ hand. 
“ But I couldn’t help it. And I wouldn’t forgive you 
so easily, if I didn’t think you were in earnest and 
sincere in your — ignorance.” 

“A boy can’t help the way he is brought up,” 
said Cyrus. “There weren’t any Catholics at our 
place, and pa always thought you were idolaters. 
I am sure,” Cyrus added, with a flash in his eyes, “it 
looks like it.” 

Will lost his temper, and raised his fist. 

“Oh, yes,” Cyrus said, with a bitter look on his 
face, “ hit me when a girl is here and I don’t want 
to hit back. If you think you are going to make 
me like Roman Catholics by pounding me you’re 
greatly mistaken. If you pretend to be good, you 
oughtn’t to flare up because I say what I think is 
true.” 

“ Cyrus,” Alice said, “you don’t understand how 
much our religion is to us. Will, do not be angry. 


2o6 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT, 

If Cyrus will stay with us, we shall show him, I hope, 
that our religion makes us better.” 

“The people about here,” Cyrus continued, his 
temper rising, “ say that Catholics are no good. 
And they don’t want to associate with you. If it 
weren’t for me, you would have been frozen out be- 
fore this.” 

Will laughed. “ It would take a great deal to 
freeze 7ne out. I’d like to see them try it.” As he 
spoke, he remembered several unfriendly looks and 
whispers. 

“ Some of the boys about here have formed a 
societ)^ the junior A. P. A.’s, and they’re going to 
boycott you, because you’re stuck up.” 

“I wonder if we have given offence,” asked Alice. 

“ I didn’t know it was ‘stuck up ’ just to mind our 
own business,” said Will. 

“You can’t do that in the country. You’ve got 
to be neighborly,” Cyrus said. “Well,” he contin- 
ued, moved by Alice’s distress, — she hated to feel 
that people disliked her, — “ I’ll stand by you. The 
boys were speaking about a skating race in January, 
if the cold weather sets in. I told them you’d 
go in with me. Will, but they said they wouldn’t 
have you — they didn’t want any Catholics in 
theirs.” 

Cyrus said this with some malice. He knew well 
that Will cared a great deal for the good opinion of 
other people, though he pretended that he did not. 
Will clenched his fists. 

“I’ll teach them!” he said. “I’ll go into the 
race whether they want me or not. The lake is 
free.” 

“We’ll see,” Cyrus said tantalizingly. “You’ll 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 207 

not get into the foot-ball team. I’m to be quarter- 
back ! ” 

This gave Will a sharp pain. He was about to 
answer in the same spirit when the twins entered. 
Sara was in tears. 

“Oh, Cyrus,” she called out, running up to the 
boy, with her arms outstretched, “John has hurt 
Dolly. He has knocked out one of her eyes.” 

“ I didn’t mean to do it! ” said John, who dragged 
into the room a singular-looking object, almost as 
large as Sara. It was a giant of a doll made of corn- 
cobs, with watermelon seeds for eyes. Ugly as it 
was, Sara was devoted to it. “ I touched Dolly’s 
head with my whip, and Sara pulled Dolly away, and 
I just shook the head a little, and the eye came out.” 

“You did mean to do it! ” said Sara. 

“I didn’t!” 

“You did!” exclaimed Sara. “ And now Dolly’s 
blind and she can never see again with one eye! 
You bad., bad boy ! ” 

“I didn’t mean it!” screamed John. “You’re 
bad yourself! ” 

Cyrus laughed. The bitter, mocking look left his 
face. 

“The children are like us,” he said, smiling at 
Alice. “ It ought to be a lesson. Never mind, 
Sara, I’ll make the doll right again.” 

“Are you a doll’s doctor?” asked Sara. 

“Yes,” answered Cyrus, laughing. “Of course I 
am. I’ll cure Miss Dolly, and make John a boy 
doll, that can move its head.” 

“Isn’t he lovely?” said Sara, all smiles. 

The dimples came out in John’s face too. And 
Will’s frown faded. 


2o8 the badgers of BELMONT. 

“I tell you,” Sara said, putting her little hand on 
Cyrus’ arm, “what I’ll do. I’ll ask Our Blessed 
Lady to ask the Holy Child to give you what you 
want most. And she never refuses little children, 
because of her dear little Son, and He never says no 
to her. I saw Alice crying last night,” Sara said, 
before Alice could stop her. “ I know she was think- 
ing of Malcolm and Clara. She wants them back, — 
I know she does, — so I just asked the Blessed Virgin 
to have the good God send them back.” 

Cyrus kissed little Sara. “I am sure she will,” 
he exclaimed. There he stopped short and red- 
dened. It occurred to him that perhaps he was an 
idolater in saying so. “That is,” he added, “God 
will.” 

“Of course God will, — for God is the little Jesus, 
but He likes to grant His Mother favors. She asks 
Him because she loves us, and He never says no to 
His Mother,” said Alice. 

Cyrus understood. “That’s all right. That’s 
reasonable enough. Nobody would refuse his mother 
anything. I know I wouldn’t. But you’ll never get 
what 7 want most, little Sara.” 

“Mrs. Ponsonby asked John to pray, too, for 
something she wants ^a(/. And John and I pray 
every night and morning. Everybody seems to 
want something.” 

“ I want a Rugby ball! ” said John promptly. 

Will smiled and Cyrus laughed outright. 

“ I just want my doll fixed, — and Cyrus is going 
to do it! And I know what Will wants. I heard 
him tell Cyrus that he was worried about earning 
money for us all.” 

Will’s cheeks reddened. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


209 


“ Hush! ” he said, 

Cyrus, Alice, and he exchanged glances. Will 
sighed; he knew of no means of earning money and 
at the same time keeping the family together. Cyrus 
forgot his irritation. 

“Will,” he said suddenly, “ there is a greenhouse 
behind the barn filled with window sashes. We 
could raise some early vegetables and sell them, if 
we knew how to go about it. But I must mend 
Sara’s doll.” 

He took out his penknife. “Hush!” he said. 
“ There are footsteps near the window ! ” They were 
silent. 

“Isn’t that a knock at the door?” The wind had 
risen; they all listened. Yes, — there was a knock 
at the door. Alice rose, to open it. The wind swept 
the light, feathery snow inward. Two figures stood 
in the darkness outside. 

Alice held out her hands in welcome. 

“Oh, Will!” she called out. “It’s Clara! And 
here’s Malcolm, too!” 

The two figures entered the room. They were 
powdered with snow, and Malcolm carried a bag 
in his hand; Clara was burdened with a large 
bundle. 

“Welcome!” cried Will, kissing them both. 
“Welcome!” 

The twins plunged into Clara and Malcolm’s arms, 
almost knocking them down, 

“ I knew they’d come! ” Sara said. “ If you pray 
hard, the Blessed Virgin always gets what you 
want! ” 

“We were expecting you! ” said John, hanging to 
Malcolm’s hand. 

14 


210 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


The newcomers looked cold and tired. But their 
faces lit up at this hearty welcome. 

Will took the bag and the bundle and Alice took 
off Clara’s wraps. 

“ I did not think you would be so glad to see us,” 
said Malcolm. “We were almost afraid to come.” 

“Afraid to come!” echoed Alice reproachfully. 

“ Oh, Malcolm, how can you talk so ? ” 

“It’s what we have been praying for,” said Will, 
gravely. “This is Mr. Dodd, a friend of ours.” 
Cyrus tried to make a bow. “ This is my sister 
Clara.” Will added, suddenly remembering to be 
polite, “ Clara, let me present Mr. Cyrus Dodd to 
you, — Malcolm, permit me to introduce you to Mr. 
Dodd.” 

Cyrus was so overwhelmed at being called Mr. 
Dodd, — a thing which had never before occurred to 
him, — that he tried to make his bow very low indeed; 
consequently he stumbled against a chair and went 
over it backwards. Malcolm rushed forward and 
prevented him from falling, and fortunately nobody 
laughed. The twins were engaged in examining 
Clara’s package, Alice and Will were too polite, un- 
derstanding how sensitive Cyrus was, and Clara and 
Malcolm felt too serious and anxious for mirth. 

This was lucky. If they had laughed, Cyrus would 
have disliked them all. As it was, Malcolm’s cour- 
tesy to him made him feel friendly at once. 

Alice made tea and Will and Cyrus set the table. 

“You’re not to talk until you’ve had something to 
eat,” said Alice. “ It’s a long walk from the station 
on such a night! ” 

“You seem quite at home,” said Clara, with a 
sigh of content, as she drew nearer the stove. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


21 I 


“We are,” answered Alice, “and now more than 
ever, since you’ve come.” 

“It is pleasant to be here,” Malcolm answered. 
“ The truth is, you’re very kind to be so glad to see 
us. Clara and I dreamed about the twins three 
nights in succession, and we couldn’t stay away 
longer.” 

“Home is where the heart is! Oh, dear,” Alice 
exclaimed, stopping on her way across the room with 
a loaf of bread to kiss Clara, “ I am almost happy! ” 

Cyrus began to have a lonely feeling, as the rapid, 
cordial talk went on. He was left out. The young 
people seemed to have forgotten him. He tilted his 
chair back in the corner behind the stove. He was 
in the shadow. They could not see him. And they 
did not care whether he existed or not, he said to 
himself. He became bitter. He would run away. 
Nobody wanted him; he was an orphan. If he were 
rich, like some boys, — he thought, — they would be 
quick enough to notice him. Although nobody had 
laughed when he fell, he had an uneasy belief that 
he had made himself ridiculous. 

Malcolm brought out a paper of candy for the 
children, and Clara a little Japanese doll for Sara and 
a monkey on a stick for John. 

Cyrus sneered to himself. “ Penny toys,” he said. 
“ I’d buy something better than that.” 

The Badgers had forgotten him. The kettle sang 
merrily and Alice made muffins and all the tongues 
went at once. Alice’s face had brightened and lost 
its careworn look. They all had so much to say to 
one another. 

“ Mrs. Ponsonby advised us to come, — dear old 
lady ! ” said Clara. “ I know we can’t stay because 


212 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


we’d only be a burden to you, — but, as we had 
enough money to pay our fare here and back, she 
said we ought to spend Christmas with you. And, 
oh, Alice,” Clara added, putting her hand on Alice’s 
arm, “ it is so good to be with you. You won’t mind 
our being a burden for a time; — we’ll go back and 
earn our living soon.” 

Alice’s bright face clouded. 

“There’s two hundred dollars due on this house. 
The Squire sent us notice last week,” Will said, be- 
fore Alice could stop him. “We’ll pay it off — some- 
how.” 

Malcolm’s countenance fell. 

“ Who’s the Squire ? ” 

“The man that holds the mortgage.” 

Cyrus bent forward a little. He was concealed 
behind the stove under the shadow of the wide man- 
tel-shelf, He began to be interested, 

“ Didn’t you say that that boy’s name was Dodd ? ” 
asked Malcolm. 

“Cyrus, — yes,” said Alice, looking around. 
“Where is he? I suppose he’s gone to do some 
chores. You can’t fancy how kind he has been to 
us. He doesn’t understand our religion, but he will 
in time, if we are nice to him. He is so good and 
kind.” 

“I just love him!” cried Sara. “He will know 
about the little Infant and His Mother when I tell 
him; he frightened us to-night, but he was only in 
fun.” 

Malcolm paid no attention. “Didn’t old Dodd 
own this house ? And isn’t this boy his nephew ?” 

“Why, of course,” said Alice, “ what of that? ” 

“I wonder where he is,” said Will uneasily, “I 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 213 

thought all the chores were done, — I don’t like to 
have him do more than I do; he is a very hard 
worker. ” 

“He has skipped out to leave us alone,” said 
Alice; “he is most delicate in his feelings.” 

“He doesn’t look it,” put in Malcolm. “He’s as 
country-looking as can be, — I could hardly help 
laughing out when he made his bow.” 

Cyrus clenched his fist. 

“I love him!” said Sara, with a vague idea that 
she must defend her friend. “ I love him! ” 

“ If he is old Dodd’s nephew, why doesn’t this man 
you call Squire give him the money you pay ? If this 
house belonged to old Dodd, it must now belong to 
young Dodd until it’s paid for.” 

“That is so! ” said Will. 

Cyrus listened, breathless. If this house were his, 
he would soon make them remember him, he thought, 
recalling Malcolm’s speech; he would teach that city 
upstart what he could do! 

“Father always paid the money to the Squire,” 
said Alice, as she put a plate of delicately browned 
muffins on the table. “ It does seem strange that 
Cyrus should be left out.” 

“ I must look into it,” said Will. “ I’d rather pay 
Cyrus the money than the Squire, who is, they say, 
an awful miser.” 

“Let us be charitable,” put in Alice, “on such a 
night. I wish Cyrus were here! He likes muffins, 
— my muffins. Do go to call him. Will.” 

Will went to the door. Cyrus skipped through 
the shadows, — there was only one candle lit, — into 
the other room. 

“ Here lam!” he called out, 


2 14 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

“ We were just speaking of you ! ” called out John. 

“ Oh, look at my monkey! ” 

“Beautiful!” said Cyrus, knowing what was ex- 
pected of him. “ I hope that you were saying some- 
thing good.” 

“/ was! ” exclaimed Sara. 

“ Are you country-looking ? ” asked Sara. “ What 
is country-looking ? ” 

Cyrus and Malcolm reddened. 

“ Stop the child’s mouth with a muffin ! ” exclaimed 
Clara, laughing. Alice looked unhappy; she guessed 
how sensitive Cyrus was. 

“ To be country-looking is to appear strong and 
healthy,” she said. 

“And awkward,” Cyrus added. “To fall when 
one tries to make a bow.” 

There was silence. 

Alice broke it by recommending her muffins and 
tea and raspberry jam. Cyrus sulkily refused to 
eat: he was not going to make sport for that “city 
dude.” A sudden thought struck Will. 

“Cyrus, old boy, you’re one of the family, — almost 
a brother; — indeed I think little Sara thinks more of 
you than of me.” Cyrus smiled. “Now we want 
to talk freely to you. There are five of us here, and 
we want to keep together, — there are seven, including 
the twins, — we can only be happy in one home. 
But to keep together, we must find some way of 
earning a living here.” 

Cyrus screwed up his forehead. He began to eat 
his muffin. “ Wait,” he said, “ till I think.” 

Before drinking her tea Clara had unwrapped a 
tiny bunch of violets and put it in a glass in the 
centre of the table. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 215 


Cyrus fixed his eyes on the flowers, whose scent 
filled the room. 

“ How much ? ” he asked suddenly. 

“Ten cents,” answered Clara, trying not to smile 
at his directness. “I wanted to bring some little 
gift to Alice; I know I was extravagant. Oh, Alice, 
I wish we were rich ! ” 

“I don’t,” said Alice. “I wish we were sure of 
earning our living.” 

“Well,” drawled Cyrus, “I think I can show you 
how to do it, But first we must have some money.” 

Clara laughed. “ Will two return tickets and one 
dollar and a half be enough?” 

Cyrus smiled. 

“It’s no joke,” he said, drinking his tea out of his 
saucer and forgetting Malcolm was looking at him. 
“It’s no joke, — this earning a living.” 


CHAPTER XHI. 


THE WOLF A T THE DOOR. 



OR a few days Clara and Malcolm were quiet. 


1 Their experience had taught them that the best 
thing in the world, after the love of God, is the love 
of true friends. And home seemed very sweet to 
them. They had much to say. And when they 
gathered about the fire at night, Cyrus thought 
their tales were, as he said, “ as good as a story- 
book.” 

Clara and Malcolm had found that life was very 
hard on the stage. Besides, they had chosen theatri- 
cal work because of their vanity. If they had gone 


2i6 


THE BAD GEES OF BELMONT. 


into it with the desire to do their duty, they might 
have endured its hardships. They soon had the 
good sense to see that they were dependent on Mrs. 
Ponsonby, whose circumstances were evidently much 
straitened. 

Malcolm was rudely awakened to the fact that he 
was in danger of becoming like some of the boys he 
associated with. He did not swear, it is true; but 
he began to be coarse, to smoke, and to be persuaded 
occasionally to drink beer. And the words he heard 
at first shocked him; after a time, he listened to 
them as a matter of course. He did not realize how 
fast he was sinking until he went to confession. The 
priest in a few words showed him how far he was 
drifting from the right. 

“The Rose Queen,” which was a spectacular play, 
had “ run ” several weeks. Malcolm still carried 
banners or spears or stood still in a gaudy costume 
and glittering armor. Clara had been promoted; 
she stood at the wing dressed in a thin Grecian robe 
until the Queen appeared, and then she was allowed 
to scatter artificial roses before the young woman, 
who, attired in pink gauze, was carried in a paste- 
board palanquin, heavily gilded, down toward the 
footlights. 

The stage was a playground for draughts on the 
cold winter nights. Clara wore her Grecian costume 
as modestly as possible. She shivered like every- 
body else. Her gown was of thin white stuff, with 
a Grecian border in gold. It looked very bright and 
splendid from “the front,” as the auditorium of the 
theatre is called, — but Clara often wondered what 
those warm, well-clad people would think, if they 
knew how cold all the girls in the rose-decked pro- 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 217 

cession were. Her teeth chattered as the chorus 
sang,— 

“ Hail, summer and roses, 

Hail, warmth and delight ! ” 

As she stood behind the side scene, — the “wing,” 
in theatrical parlance, — she cast down her eyes, and 
wondered, too, how the dancers could bring them- 
selves to dress so immodestly. She said she would 
never dress in that way. 

“You’ll have to,” said Mercy Sedgewich, “or 
leave the theatre.” 

On the Monday after he had gone to confession, 
Malcolm was much depressed. His confessor had 
not told him to leave the theatre; he had said that 
there were excellent, hard-working people on the 
stage, but he had advised him to seek some other 
means of livelihood more suitable to him and his 
sister. Malcolm was disheartened; he began to 
understand how poor Mrs. Ponsonby was, and, being 
a gentleman at heart, he determined that he must 
not remain dependent on her slender resources. 

Clara came home in tears. The manager had 
called her to his office and told her that, as she seemed 
graceful, he would let her be a “butterfly.” To be 
a “ butterfly” was the ambition of all the young girls 
about her, — Mercy often said that she was “just 
wild” to be a “butterfly.” The dress was of black 
and gold, with a gold-colored cloak that resembled 
a butterfly’s wings. When the manager spoke about 
it to Clara, he expected that she would be grateful. 
“You get a dollar a night,” he said. 

“ I can’t wear the costume,” she said; “my father 
would disown me if he saw me in that dress. Please 
let me stay where I am and strew the flowers,” 


2i8 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


In a story-book, the manager would have been so 
touched by Clara’s modesty that he would have 
praised her and finally given her the best possible 
part, and let her wear what she chose. But Clara 
was not in a story-book; and the scenes in story- 
books are not always taken from real life. 

“Well,” the manager said, “)'ou can do as you 
please; — but if you expect to get on at the theatre, 
you will have to do what you are told.” 

Clara went away, sick at heart. She knew that 
she must obey or leave the theatre or stay always 
strewing flowers, in an unimportant part. If the 
manager allowed her to do the last thing, she knew 
that he would not promote her. Her chances were 
gone. Even as a “butterfly ” she would be nobody. 
Where were her dreams of filling vast audiences with 
delight now! She had read of this in the novels. 
It was all so different from what she had imagined. 
She saw that Malcolm was changing for the worse; 
and so on that Monday she had said to him; 

“Let us go to Alice; do let us go to Belmont. 
It will help us, and we can get her advice about 
finding something else to do.” 

“Yes,” Malcolm answered, much to her surprise, 
“ I am tired of it all. And I do want to be a good 
boy, Clara, but I am afraid I shouldn’t be long 
among those toughs.” 

“ I hate the stage! ” said Clara. “ I’d rather wash 
dishes than have to put that greasy paint on my 
cheeks and under my eyebrows and shiver there 
every night at the wings.” 

“And the noise and the talk and the horrible 
toughness of all those ‘supes. ’ ” 

“ It would be different if one were a great actress, 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


219 


though I can see that it is hard work; and it is 
different when one sits in front. I heard a young 
lady say as I was going home the other night; 
‘ Those must have been real roses in the procession 
scene!’ Fancy! Those soiled, artificial things! ” 

Mrs. Ponsonby advised them to spend Christmas 
with the folks at Belmont. She made one of her 
richest plum cakes, — a real plum cake after a Vir- 
ginia recipe, with lots of citron and nuts and raisins 
in it, — and she put the initials of the twins in pink 
icing upon it. It was plain to her that the theatre 
was not a good place for the young people. And 
she hoped and prayed that there might be room for 
them to work together at Belmont. They had 
learned much by their experience on the stage, and 
Mrs. Ponsonby felt that they were sensible enough 
to profit by it. 

They were by no means certain whether Alice and 
Will would forgive them or not; they felt ashamed 
of themselves. 

The night before they were to start for Belmont 
they sat with Mrs. Ponsonby near her brightly glow- 
ing stove. It was then that she told them what she 
wanted most in the world. She wanted, above all 
things, to see her sister, 

“ We were separated after the war,” she said, “ and 
we have never seen each other since. We were 
young and very happy until my mother took her to 
England, leaving me at Richmond with some good 
Catholic friends. I became a Catholic. Mother 
died in England, and I lost sight of my dear sister. 
You can’t imagine how much I loved her! ” 

“Yes, I can!” exclaimed Clara, “as much as I 
love little Sara.” 


220 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“You can understand how I feel the loss of this 
dear little sister, then. We lost a great deal of 
money and property through the war, like other Vir- 
ginians. And when my uncle Charles died in New 
York he left everything to my sister, Vera, and 
nothing to me, — absolutely nothing. If Vera could 
be found, she would be a rich woman. Uncle Charles 
told me that the day I ceased to be a Catholic I 
might have half his fortune; but I only smiled at 
that. I often think that perhaps Vera is hungry 
and cold somewhere with all that money lying wait- 
ing for her. What I want most, dear children, is not 
riches, though I am poor enough, but only to see my 
sister again. Oh, if she should not know me! ” 
Clara’s eyes filled with tears. 

“You were just saying that you felt so grateful to 
me that you would like to give me what I most want, 
— to see my sister is my prayer night and day, — 
night and day, — only to see her once! ’’ 

Clara and Malcolm were silent. 

“You can pray,’’ Mrs. Ponsonby said, “you can 
pray, and prayer works miracles. She, — my dear 
little sister, — must be forty years of age, — think of 
it, and I am much older than she, and yet I should 
feel young again if I could see her. Promise me 
this, dear children, that whenever you go to Mass 
you will ask Our Lord to let me see her again. I 
know He will,’’ said Mrs. Ponsonby, making the 
sign of the cross, “ I know He will, — He always hears 
our prayers when we are in earnest.’’ 

The two listeners promised most heartily, and the 
next morning they bought their tickets and started 
for Belmont. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


221 


All these things were told while the wood crackled 
in the stove in the kitchen or the great logs in the 
open fire-place in the parlor. And Cyrus listened as 
one entranced. Nearly everything the Badgers said 
opened new worlds to him, and at the end of the 
week he was like one of the family; their joys were 
his joys, their sorrows his sorrows. He no longer 
looked at the statue of the Blessed Virgin with dis- 
trust. And when he prayed, he asked, among other 
things, that Mrs. Ponsonby — whose name had be- 
come familiar to him — might find her sister. 

Christmas came and passed. The whole family, 
even Cyrus, went to Mass. There was a huge 
Christmas-tree hung with all the odds and ends that 
the skilful fingers of Alice and Clara could make; a 
fat turkey, which Cyrus had managed to secure, was 
the centre of the feast. The day was happy. After 
it had gone, the young people realized that they must 
find some way of keeping the wolf — or rather the 
twin wolves, poverty and debt, — from the door. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


BY THE FIRE. 


HE prospect was not cheerful. Here were seven 



1 people to be clothed and fed, educated and 
prepared for life. It is true they had a house over 
their heads and plenty of firewood; but if two hun- 
dred dollars could not be paid in a few days, they 
might all be left homeless. 

On the night after Christmas, when the twins had 
been put to bed, the five older children sat in front 


222 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


of the big fire-place. Malcolm had a large, flat stone 
on his knees and a hammer in his hand; he occasion- 
ally cracked a walnut and handed it to Clara, who 
put salt on it, and presented it to the one of the 
group whose turn came next. 

“ It’s your turn! ” she said, jogging Will’s elbow. 
“ I have eaten three delicious walnuts that ought to 
have been yours! ” 

Will started. “I wasn’t thinking,” he said, “or, 
rather, I was thinking too deep; thank you, Clara.” 

“I’ll have to go away, — that’s all!” said Cyrus 
gloomily. “ I’m no good to you. I’m only a bur- 
den. I’ll go and tramp. I can’t think of anything, 
— I’m only in the way! ” 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind!” said Will, 
“You’re one of us, — a Badger of Belmont,” he 
added, laughing. “ Sink or swim, live or die, you’re 
one of us.” 

Cyrus was downcast. He had caught a bad cold; 
he was feverish and unhappy. Alice and Clara had 
made him lie on the lounge all day, and dosed him 
with hot lemonade; and the twins had tried their 
best to be quiet. 

“Sink or swim, old boy!” cried Malcolm, almost 
mashing his finger in his enthusiasm, “ sink or swim, 
you’re a Badger.” 

They all laughed and felt less gloomy. 

“Something must be done! ” said Alice. 

“ I’m a good skater, — I might win the fifty dollars 
the village committee has put up for the winner of 
the skating match,” said Malcolm. “I heard a man 
talking about it at the station the other day,” 

Cyrus frowned. 

“There is no use in counting on that,” he said, — 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


223 


“ no use. They will not let you in, — that is, the boys 
about here will not. They say you are ‘stuck up ’ and 
a Catholic.” 

“I’d like to see them keep me out,” exclaimed 
Malcolm, forgetting to hammer the walnut in his 
fingers. “There are three of us, and we’ve muscle 
and grit, — if they can keep us out, why let them! ” 

“ But you wouldn’t go where you were not wanted, 
would you?” asked Alice. 

“ If it is a question of earning fifty dollars, I 
shouldn’t mind a trifle like that. But why are these 
boys so down on us?” 

“If they knew you they wouldn’t be,” answered 
Cyrus. “You can’t blame ’em. They think city 
people are ‘stuck up. ’ And they don’t like Catholics 
any more than I did before I knew you.” 

“They wouldn’t like us even if they knew us,” 
said Will, his eyes flashing. “ No matter what we’d 
do, they’d say it was wrong. It is the old story of 
the wolf and the lamb.” 

“ You’re wrong there,” answered Cyrus hotly. “ I 
hated Catholics as much as anybody until I knew you ; 
I was brought up that way. If they knew you ” 

“ But how will they ever know us if they hate us 
so?” asked Malcolm. “I tell you what we’ll do; — 
we’ll enter for the match and win it, if we can. If 
they will not let us in, we’ll appeal to the committee. 
If the committee rules against us, we’ll not go in, — 
that’s all; we’ll vote them moss-backed curmudgeons 
and facinorous autochthons.” 

“Good gracious!” said Clara. “What does that 
mean ? ” 

“Look in the dictionary,” answered Malcolm; 
“ that’s where I found it.” 


224 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“ I haven’t time now,” said Clara; “ I am assisting 
at a family council; I’ll look presently. I do hope 
Malcolm and I can stay here. It is so lovely to be 
together! ” 

“You shall stay here!” cried Cyrus. “There 
must be some way.” 

Cyrus’ tone raised Will’s spirits and made Alice 
look at him gratefully. 

“Thank you, Cyrus,” she said. “You are putting 
heart into us. I think. Will, you had better see the 
Squire and find out whether he will give us some- 
what longer time in which to pay that money or not. 
If he would give us a month longer, it would be 
easier.” 

“I will go, — I have not met him yet,” said Will. 

“ If you can persuade him to let us begin in Feb- 
ruary to pay him ten dollars a month, we shall be 
saved, — for I have a good plan,” said Cyrus. 

Cyrus would not explain his plan. 

“We’ve been serious enough for one night, — seri- 
ous enough. Let us forget dull care!” Malcolm 
began to sing, — 

“ There was a small girl named Clar-a, 

She tried hard to say ‘ta-ra-ra-ra ’ ; 

But the more that she tried, 

The harder she cried, 

Which was foolish of silly Clar-a!” 

Cyrus opened his eyes in amazement. He had 
never been used to this kind of fun. It seemed 
almost wrong that people should become so cheery 
when their future was so uncertain. Clara laughed 
and sang in her turn, — 

“ There was a young man they called Mai ” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


225 


She broke down here, and everybody laughed. 
Malcolm imitated a banjo, and started “ Hail, 
Columbia! ” 

The rest, including Cyrus, joined in. And they 
sang songs until it was time to say the rosary. And 
Cyrus wondered to see them suddenly become so 
serious. They were all the more cheerful for their 
burst of fun when morning brought new cares. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE SQUIRE. 



ILL had a feeling somewhat akin to despera- 


VV tion; Alice felt the .trials of a mother of a 
family; Will now knew what a heavy load of anx- 
iety the father bears. He must find some way of 
paying the money to the Squire. Alice and he con- 
cluded to write out clearly their proposal for the 
paying of the two hundred dollars on instalments. 

They debated whether they should send this pro- 
posal to the Squire — Belmont called the lonely old 
man by no other name; he was a lawyer and he 
had been a justice of the peace — or go with it to 
him. Alice remembered that her father had often 
said that a man should always undertake to do busi- 
ness by words spoken rather than by words written. 
But Will was timid; above all, he hated to ask a 
favor from this stranger, who had the reputation of 
being a miser, an infidel, and of the rudest manners. 

Duty is duty; for the good, no matter how hard it 
is, there can be no escape from it. He put on his 
best suit of clothes, and walked to the Squire’s 


226 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


house. It was a mile away. It was built of rough 
stone, “ pointed ” with plaster. There was a huge 
chimney and a white front door with carved panels. 
Will had no need to use the knocker; the door was 
hospitably open. He walked into the empty hall. 
His step aroused the Squire. A door opened on the 
right hand side of the hall, and an old man, with a 
red complexion and cold blue eyes, faced him. The 
Squire was tall, bent, and slight; he wore a dark-blue 
swallow-tail coat with large brass buttons. He was 
certainly very old, but he moved easily and gracefully. 

“ Well ? ” he said. 

“I have come to see you on business,” Will stam- 
mered, embarrassed by the suddenness of the Squire’s 
appearance. 

“Oh, you have,” said, the Squire, with a glance 
that seemed to pierce him through and through. 
“ Come in.” 

Will obeyed him, and entered the room. The floor 
was clean and bare. There was a low fire in the 
grate. The Squire gave him a mahogany chair with 
a cane seat. He took his own position near a 
mahogany desk studded with brass nails. 

“Well?” he said. 

“I am William Badger.” 

“And you’ve come to pay the money you owe 
me ? ” 

The Squire fixed his keen eyes on Will, who fum- 
bled in his pockets for the paper Alice had written. 

“Shall I make out a receipt?” the Squire asked, 
impatiently. “What are you stammering about? 
You’ve come about the mortgage, haven’t you?” 

“ Yes, — but we thought you’d let us pay it a little 
at a time.” 


THE BADGERS' OF BELMONT. 


227 


“People oughtn’t to think, they ought to act,” 
said the Squire, consulting a small note-book ; “ that 
money is slightly overdue now. Do you know that 
I can seize the house at any moment if you don’t 
pay up ? ” 

Will felt his blood go from his face. A sick feel- 
ing oppressed him. 

“But you wouldn’t,” said Will, “you wouldn’t 
turn us out, as my father paid so much already.” 

“Wouldn’t I?” asked the Squire, grinning. “Ask 
anybody that knows me, if I wouldn’t take my own 
when I can. I’m a business man.” 

“But you’re a Christian ” began Will timidly. 

“ No, I am not. Christianity and business are 
different things. You must pay up, — or go! ” 

Will felt cold all over, as he looked straight into 
the cold blue eyes of the Squire. It did not occur 
to him that there could be any appeal from the de- 
cision of this stern old man. 

“ Alice and I thought that you might take ten dol- 
lars a month.” 

“You didn’t think of offering me any interest on 
my money, did you? Ten dollars a month! — you 
must think I’m an old fool! ” 

Will looked into the fire. There was no consola- 
tion there. He wished he had Alice’s paper with 
him. 

“ We are honest, — tny father taught us to be hon- 
est. We are poor. Squire, but we will pay our debts. ” 
‘“Honest people are generally poor,” sneered the 
Squire. “ When a man can’t pay, he talks about 
honesty.” 

Will said a prayer in his heart, — a prayer to St. 
Joseph, who knew what it was to be poor. He 


228 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


would have given a year out of his life to have been 
able to propitiate this unfeeling man, 

“ We can manage to pay ten dollars a month. If 
you’ll take that, we shall always be grateful ” 

“ I don’t want gratitude. I don’t want friends, I 
don’t want prayers. What I want is money, — hard 
cash. I am the richest man in Belmont, without 
chick or child; and I’ve got rich by sticking close to 
business and avoiding friends. If you haven’t the 
money, you can go and take the consequences.” 

Will’s head reeled. He saw Sara and John and 
Alice without a home, and Malcolm and Clara adrift 
again, just after they had come back. And poor 
Cyrus! His face ought to have brought pity from 
the Squire ; surely no boy ever suffered as much in 
so short a time! 

Will took up his hat, 

“You’ve a boy living with you, I believe,” said 
the Squire coldly. “ Beggars always take in another 
pauper.” 

Will stood up straight. The blood came back to 
his face. His eyes flashed. The word “beggar” 
was hard to bear; but he had been brought up to 
respect old age. He made no reply. 

“Old Dodd’s nephew?” 

“Yes, — Cyrus Dodd,” answered Will. The door 
of the room was slightly pushed open, and then 
closed gently. The Squire did not notice. Will 
thought he heard a movement in the hall. 

“Cyrus Dodd, as you call him, is a bad boy,” said 
the Squire, again fixing Will with his freezing eyes. 
“I want him out of the neighborhood.” 

Will looked squarely at the old man, standing with 
his hand on the back of the chair and ready to go. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 229 

“Cyrus Dodd,” continued the Squire solemnly, 
“is one of the worst boys in this district. I don’t 
want him here. You must send him away. You 
don’t know how bad he has been ; why, he frightened 
the whole neighborhood for months, — your father 
couldn’t rent the house, for the Dodd scoundrel 
made the idiots of people believe that it was haunted. 
Now, send him away, — out of your house! Send him 
away, and I’ll give him money enough to go some- 
where, so that he’ll come to no good end. Send him 
away to-night” said the Squire slowly, “and 1 will 
give you a receipt for the two hundred dollars to- 
morrow and satisfy the mortgage. The house at 
Belmont will be yours, to have and to hold! ” 

“ You want me to turn Cyrus Dodd into the world 
without a home? ” 

The door of the room moved again slightly. 

“ Yes, — he doesn’t deserve a home. He’s a wicked 
boy; — he ought to be hanged. Turn him out and 
get your house! ” 

“To send him away at once?” 

“Yes,” said the Squire eagerly, “at once. He’ll 
go to the bad and never be heard of again. Send 
him off — he’s not a fit companion for a Christian.” 

“Then,” said Will, meeting the Squire’s eye, “I 
had better send him to you. You said a moment ago 
that you are not a Christian.” 

“I’m not; — but I don’t want any of your inso- 
lence, you beggar!” exclaimed the Squire, his face 
growing very red. “ You drive Dodd away, — or take 
the consequences! ” 

With an effort. Will controlled himself. Naturally, 
he had a violent temper. 

“You’ll send him off,— that’s right,” said the 


230 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Squire. “As soon as you do it, I’ll give you the 
receipt. The sooner, the better! ’’ 

“Squire,” said Will slowly, as he gripped his hat, 
“ Cyrus Dodd is an orphan like myself. I am rich 
in brothers and sisters; he is not; .he is alone. He 
has been a good friend to me and mine, and we all 
like him. Do you think I could turn him out of my 
house ? ” 

“ Your house! ” sneered the Squire. 

“Yes, — until you get it, as I suppose you will. 
Why,” he added, speaking more slowly, a bright 
light coming into his eyes, “ if I did this thing, I 
would not dare to kiss Sara or John, I wouldn’t look 
Alice in the face, I would be ashamed to say my 
prayers. Cyrus Dodd shall sink or swim with us! ” 
“Been studying Patrick Henry’s speech!” said 
the Squire sarcastically. “ Let me tell you what 
will happen. I can’t turn you out for some weeks 
yet, according to law. In the mean time the neigh- 
bors will boycott you. They’re afraid of me, — I am 
the strongest man in this community. You’re for- 
eigners, and the Belmont folks don’t want foreigners 
here. They don’t mind ’em working on the rail- 
roads, but they won’t have ’em as equals. We’re 
all native Americans.” 

Will laughed. 

“Foreigners? I am an American, as good an 
American as you or anybody else. Squire.” Will’s 
fear of the old man had disappeared, now that there 
was no hope. “ I’d like to know what else a boy 
can be who is born here. I don’t know any other 
country and don’t want to.” 

“Of course, you’re a Catholic ” 

“ I am,” said Will, “ and a better American citizen 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


231 


for being a Catholic, — since a Catholic must obey 
the laws and love his country and defend it against 
all enemies or commit sin. So, Squire, we’ll drop 
the American business, if you please. I couldn’t be 
anything else, if I tried. But,” Will added, wonder- 
ing where his flow of words came from, “ if I were 
not a Christian, I would feel myself less of an Amer- 
ican, since the discoverer and the saviour of this 
country were both good Christians.” 

“Goon, — tire yourself with useless talk!” cried 
the Squire, pounding furiously on his desk. “ The 
people here won’t have you, — that’s all! You may 
find a hut to live in, but they’ll make it too hot for 
you. You’ll never have a friend here. You may 
associate with Irish laborers, if you like; — but you 
shall have no neighbor nor acquaintance among our 
people. You’ll soon be glad to get out! ” screamed 
the Squire. 

“I am not much of a talker,” said Will, going to 
the door, “ but when I get started, I don’t know 
when to stop. Perhaps I’ve been too bold in my 
words to an old man like you. I beg your pardon, 
if I have. But I want to say this, by way of good- 
by, You shall see what an American boy can do 
against odds. I don’t care that for you and your 
neighbors. Boycott us, if you can. We don’t want 
you. We’ll stay right here in Belmont, — and keep 
Cyrus Dodd with us, too, in spite of ycoi and Satan 
himself! ” 

The Squire picked up a law book — a big copy of 
“ Blackwood” — and threw it at Will, who dodged it 
and reached the hall. He almost fell over Cyrus 
Dodd, who stood there with a paper in his hand. 
Cyrus’ face was flushed and his eyes were red, 


232 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“Alice sent me with the paper you forgot, — and I 
heard my name mentioned, so I listened. Oh, Will, 
I must go, — you are kind, — kinder than anybody, 
except father and mother, — but I must go! I can’t 
see you turned out for my sake, — and the little chil- 
dren! ” 

Tears fell from Cyrus’ eyes. 

Will put his arm over his shoulder affectionately. 
As they walked down the path, the Squire came to 
the window and shook his fist at them. 

“ I 7nust go. Will.’’ 

“Not if I know it,’’ said Will, “and Alice will say 
the same thing too! ’’ 


CHAPTER XVI. 


CLARA MAKES AN ANNOUNCEMENT. 

ILL and Cyrus walked along the road in silence. 



VV Will held his head very high, and a flush 
burned brightly on his cheek. The sky was clear, 
and perplexed, anxious, angry as Will was, he 
could not help enjoying the crisp air. A squirrel 
ran out of the hedge and eyed the boys saucily. A 
robin, plump and pompous, hopped up and took a 
look at them, — both squirrel and robin moving away 
leisurely as .if to show that they were on their own 
ground. 

“ It is good to be alive,’’ said Will, drawing a long 
breath and then stooping to pick up a red strawberry 
leaf which showed under the thin snow. “ Even the 
Squire can’t take these beautiful things away from 
us. Let him do his worst! — I like the place, — and 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 233 

we’ll Stay here, in spite of him and all his works. 
Cheer up, Cyrus! ” 

Cyrus seemed very much dejected. He wondered 
at the sudden strength and energy shown by the 
usually mild Will. 

“ No,” Cyrus said, “ no, — I’m an outcast! I don’t 
see, though, why anybody should hate me as much 
as that old man does. I never did him any harm. 
I don’t see how he could talk so.” 

A shrewd light came into Will’s eyes. 

“Cyrus,” he said, “father knew the world, and I 
remember his saying, — ‘People hate you because 
they hurt you, not always because you’ve hurt 
them. ’ And I believe it. I/isteners never hear good 
of themselves,” he added, with a smile. • 

“I did not mean to listen,” Cyrus answered. 
“ Alice told me to run after you with the paper. 
When I reached the hallway, I heard your voice in 
the Squire’s office. The door was ajar, and I 
thought I’d just slip away, after I’d thrown the 
paper in. Then I heard my name, and the Squire’s 
words came to me almost before I knew what I was 
doing. Will, I hope you don’t believe what he 
said.” 

“Believe him? — a creature that doesn’t believe in 
God! I guess not! Besides, I know you, — we all 
know you and love you, Cyrus. I don’t often gush 
this way; — but it’s the truth. You’re one of us! ” 

“ After what I said last night ? ” 

“ That’s forgotten.” 

“Thank you. But I must go; I can’t have you 
ruined through me. I’ve got to leave you,” Cyrus 
said, in a faint tone. “ I was beginning to know 
what a home is, — and to think of leaving John and 


2 31 - THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

little Sara! It seemed to me that we might all work 
together for them.” 

“ And we will ! ” 

Cyrus shook his head. 

“Look here,” Will said, as they neared the house. 
“I haven’t been half a man. I see it now, — Alice 
always took the responsibility, and I let her. Clara 
and Malcolm have come back. We must keep them 
with us, — they’ll go wrong if we don’t. If we can 
all work together, as you say, we’ll do something in 
the world. Wc must keep together. I don’t care 
that much for the Squire!” said Will, snapping his 
fingers. “What can he or the neighbors do? We 
have God on our side, haven’t we? He knows we 
want only to do right.” 

“ The Squire hates me, and he will hate you all if 
I stay,” said Cyrus. 

“ Father said, ‘Love is more powerful than hate.’ ” 

“I’ve read things like that in the ‘Pearls of 
Thought’ in our country newspaper, but I never be- 
lieved them. Hate is an awful thing. Will, I’m 
doomed. Of late I thought I’d be able to go to col- 
lege some day, and learn. My father used to say, 
‘Work hard and your Uncle Dodd will see you 
through college.’ I want an education more than 
anything. Uncle Dodd was dead when I came 
here; I thought, when I began to live with you. I’d 
begin to study, — for you and Alice know a lot. But 
it’s all over now ! ” 

The boys entered the house. They knew that 
they were hungry when they smelt the soup which 
Alice had prepared for them. She greeted them, 
and looked at Cyrus’ sad face; she could make noth- 
ing out of Will’s expression. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


235 


“You should not speak a word on business until 
after you’ve had something to eat!” she said. 
“Come, all! Dinner!” 

After the meal, they went before the grate and sat 
down at a glorious wood fire. 

“ Well ? ” Alice said. 

Will told his story, and Cyrus looked unhappy, 
though the Squire’s expressions were softened in the 
telling. Even the children joined in a chorus of dis- 
gust. Sara rushed up to Cyrus and kissed him on 
both cheeks, John took his hands and Malcolm 
slapped him on the back. Clara declared that she’d 
fight the Squire herself, — “ with a broomstick! ” Will 
said. Alice smiled at Cyrus, and then looked 
thoughtful. 

“ I must go,” Cyrus said. 

“Go!” exclaimed Malcolm. “Go! You’ll stay 
just where you are, — to be sure, I’m only a guest, 
but I know I’m saying what everybody thinks. 
Leave it to Alice! ” 

“Cyrus,” said Alice, in her gentle voice, “God 
sent you to us. This is your home. When you go, 
we will go.” 

Cyrus looked around him; he pushed his hands 
into his eyes. He could not restrain himself longer; 
the tears came; he turned his face to the wall and 
began to sob with all his might. 

“ You will stay ? ” 

Cyrus could not answer Malcolm. 

“Oh, yes, you will! ” Sara said. 

Cyrus kissed her, and ran off to his room. 

“The announcement of the skating race is up in 
the post-office. Any boy over ten and under twenty 
can enter. The prizes are larger than I thought, — 


236 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


fifty dollars, twenty-five, ten, and a turkey!” Mal- 
colm said. “ I am a first-rate skater. At the theatre, 
they gave me twenty-five cents extra on the two 
nights when they introduced the skating dance, — I 
made the rollers fly ! ” 

“I can skate rather well, — and so can Cyrus,” 
Will said, “ but the Squire will not let us in, and you 
know Cyrus said the boys were against us.” 

“I wish girls could go in!” Clara exclaimed. 
“ I’d beat you all. Don’t you remember that I won 
the champion’s rosette at the pond at Elizabeth 
when we lived in Jersey?” 

“There is no rule against girls,” Malcolm an- 
swered. “ The prizes are to be given by the town 
committees of Belmont, Jackson, Freeport, and Wil- 
ton, and any young person between ten and twenty 
years of age is admitted.” 

“ I’m glad of that! ” exclaimed Clara. “I do so 
love to skate! They can’t keep us out, — there are 
no restrictions at all in the rules, as I read them in 
the station this morning. Each skater passes the 
committee stand at ten o’clock, wearing a streamer 
of some color or other, to make the scene seem gay. 
The race begins at half-past ten o’clock. There’s 
dinner for all the skaters in a big tent, which the 
railroad company provides, as well as a brass band, 
— and skating with torches and fireworks at night. 
It will be grand.” 

“ But you can’t go in, — you’re from New York ! ” 
put in Alice. 

“Why, they want people to come from everywhere, 
— that’s why the railroad managers are so inter- 
ested,” said Malcolm. 

“How much are the prizes?” asked Alice. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


237 


“Fifty, twenty-five, ten, and a big fat hen!” 
called out Clara. 

'‘'’If” Alice replied, “z/ we could win all the prizes 
we could pay the Squire. Malcolm has twenty dol- 
lars, I have seventy, and Will has twenty-five. AVe’d 
have two hundred dollars! ” 

“ Oh, dear, — if ! ” said Clara. “ I tell you, though, 
I will win one of the prizes. Oh, if we could only 
keep Cyrus here and own our house. Oh, Alice, if 
we could only stay together! ” 

“I’ll pray!” said Sara. 

“And I will, too,” said John. 

Alice kissed them both. 

“ We must all pray, — and work!” she said. She 
flitted into the kitchen and called Clara to help her 
wash the dishes. Will went out, with Malcolm, to 
cut wood. Cyrus was already busy among the glass 
frames which he had found at the back of the house. 
He had an idea, which he was silently working out; 
it had come to him when Clara had shown the violets. 

He was down-hearted ; and yet he was happy to 
know that these people loved him; he felt that he 
could never be grateful enough for this. 

“ 1 have been thinking,” Alice said, when Will had 
deposited a great pile of kindling wood in a corner 
of the kitchen, for use during the next few days, 
“that we had better ask somebody’s advice.” 

“Whose?” 

Clara had gone to practise with her skates on a 
little pond at the foot of the grove. Will and Alice 
were alone, for the children had, of course, gone 
with her. 

“The woman you spoke about — Mrs. Forsythe.” 

“Certainly,” answered Will. “Let us give a 


238 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


party, and ask Mrs. Forsythe and Tillie, — that’s the 
girl’s name. You can make a cake, can’t you?” 

“With pleasure, — then we can consult Mrs. 
Forsythe while her daughter plays with the children.” 

“It’s a great relief to consult an older person,” 
said Will; “I’m glad you thought of it. A party, 
by all means.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A PLAN. 


LICE was glad of a chance to make the family 



ii forget the Squire’s threats by the promise of a 
party. Even Cyrus became gayer. And Will, who 
was naturally social, rejoiced in the prospect of see- 
ing Mrs. Forsythe and her little daughter under his 
roof. The Squire had sent a note by a messenger. 
It read : — “ Will you send the boy away ? ” 

Clara took a pen and answered for the family: 

The Badgers of Belmont refuse to part with any member of 
the household. They will hold the fort. 

The Squire ground his teeth when his negro ser- 
vant brought this message. “ The Badgers of Bel- 
mont!” he said. “Ha! I’ll teach them ! I’ll draw 
them out, like rats in a hole! ” 

The Squire was vindictive and much feared. 
Moreover, he was rich and people believed him to be 
powerful. And so when he went about sneering at 
“the Badgers of Belmont,” many laughed and 
sneered, too, because they thought they pleased him. 
One day, shortly after Will’s meeting with the Squire, 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


239 


Clara, with little Sara by the hand, was passing the 
Squire’s house. There was a group of boys and men 
in front of his gate, waiting to be paid for work done 
on a farm he was having drained. 

“Hello, Badgers of Belmont!” called out one of 
the boys. The rest of the loungers laughed. This 
was more than Clara would bear. 

“The Badgers have come to stay! ” she said, with 
flashing eyes. “And they will make their name the 
most honored in this place! ” 

Nobody answered her. And the men said to one 
another that the Badgers had at least one plucky 
member in the family. 

Clara was ashamed of her outburst afterward, and 
she confessed to Alice that she had too much temper, 
but Alice did not blame her very severely. 

After Clara’s note had been written, Cyrus con- 
sented to stay. He saw that the Squire was against 
the Badgers, and that he would probably try to drive 
them away, no matter whether he stayed or went. 
Besides, he was working at his plan. Mrs. Forsythe 
had courteously accepted Alice’s invitation for her- 
self and Tillie. 

The Badgers gathered about the fire for a long 
talk after supper on the evening before the party. 
Sara and John had been put to bed; they had tired 
themselves gathering pine cones in the afternoon. 

Cyrus looked very serious. He had changed much 
in appearance of late. He was no longer thin and 
lanky, nor was he so awkward. He had learned to 
imitate Malcolm’s graceful walk; his necktie was 
neatly arranged, and Will had managed to make him 
wear a suit of his clothes. Neatness and self-respect 
are closely akin. Just after a bath, we have a better 


240 the badgers of BELMONT. 

opinion of ourselves than at other times, and well- 
brushed and carefully kept clothes are additional aids 
against false shame. Cyrus had gained confidence 
in himself ; he did not fear that every glance meant 
criticism or that every laugh was at him. 

The young people drew nearer the fire. 

“Alice,” Cyrus said, “I’ve been thinking it over 
seriously. We must do something. The Squire is 
against us, — which means a great deal. Think of 
little John and Sara! If he drives you out, on my 
account, it will make such a difference to them.” 

Malcolm spoke up. “ I thought that was settled. 
We’ll stick together. If one goes, all will go. The 
Squire will have no mercy on us now, — no matter 
what we do. We’re all strong and healthy. We’ll 
stay; possession is nine points of the law. It’s 
worth a fight, to be all together and happy, — for we 
are happy! ” 

“Yes, indeed!” said Clara. 

“ But what are we to do ? ” asked Cyrus anxiously. 

“ Oh, win the prizes at the skating race, pay the 
Squire, and do as we please!” said Clara. “Let’s 
talk about to-morrow night. Is Tillie nice?” 

“Yes,” put in Will, “Clara has too much imagi- 
nation; she is not at all practical. We must be 
serious,” 

“ If we could only think of some plan by which we 
could earn a living; — I have made two novenas!” 
said Alice. 

“Then,” said Malcolm, whose experience seemed 
to have made a man of him, “ we must succeed. St. 
Joseph knew what it was to earn a living; — I’ve 
prayed every night to him of late, and I know he will 
give us what we ask, — even though it would seem to 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


241 


people who don’t understand a great deal to ask 
for.” 

Cyrus frowned. 

“St. Joseph,” Malcolm explained, “worked at his 
trade for the Holy Child. He had to work hard and 
no doubt to worry, too ; — how did he know they were 
to earn their living in the strange land of Egypt? 
So when I want material things, I just work for them 
and ask St. Joseph to help me. What I can’t get 
for myself he gets for me. I wanted a place at the 
theatre, and I asked him. He got it for me, — if he 
hadn’t, I shouldn’t have known what it meant, and 
I should have been longing for it still.” 

Cyrus made no reply. All this was new. 

“If I believed in St. Joseph,” he exclaimed, “I’d 
have him choke the Squire some night when the old 
rascal is sound asleep! ” 

There were exclamations of horror. 

“You must never say such things,” Alice said. 
“It is wrong. We do not hate the Squire; we only 
want to live. St. Joseph will help you in nothing 
that is evil.” 

Cyrus looked dissatisfied. “Well,” he said, with 
a sigh, “ it’s hard to be a Christian. I always 
thought, though, that Roman Catholics could get 
their saints to get even with people. Italian brigands 
pray to the saints to send rich travellers in their way.” 

“I don’t know what some Italian robbers do,” 
said Alice, “ it does not concern us. If they are 
robbers, they are bad men, and I should think they 
would rely on the help of Satan. They may be 
ignorant and bad too. No Italian can be so igno- 
rant as to believe that ‘Thou shalt steal’ is a com- 
mandment.” 

i6 


242 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

“ Prayer with you seems real ., — very real. If I 

thought your St. Joseph would give me ” Cyrus 

broke off suddenly. “ But what shall we do to make 
a living? I’m one of the family now! ” 

They all laughed; and Malcolm hummed “ For 
he’s a jolly good fellow, he’s a jolly good fellow, 
which nobody can deny! ” 

“ I am sure of this,” said Alice, “ that God will not 
desert us. He made us all brothers and sisters, and 
I’m sure He wants us to live together in His service. 

I don’t see the way clear; it is all dark. But I kiKna 
He will help us. And I am sure help will come in 
some unexpected way.” 

Cyrus’ face brightened. “ Suppose it should come 
through me?” 

“ It would be doubly welcome,” said Alice. 

“ Listen,” Cyrus said, throwing a handful of cones 
into the fire. They blazed up and showed how 
earnest his face looked. “You know I found a num- 
ber of glass frames, — like window sashes, you know, 
— out at the back there, with a stove for heating and 
part of a frame building. AVell, I’ve been working 
hard at it in spare hours, — there hasn’t been much 
to do, — and I’ve made what we call in Indianny a 
greenhouse.” 

“A hothouse? — we call it the same thing here,” 
said Will. 

“ I can warm it with the stove to about forty de- 
grees — I tried it with Sara’s toy thermometer. It 
will be hard work to keep the warmth even ; — but I 
think we might raise some flowers. It’s a wood 
stove, and elbow grease will be needed to keep it 
filled, — but I think we might try it.” 

Clara tapped her forehead with her finger, to con- 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


243 


vey the opinion that Cyrus had taken leave of his 
common sense. The others listened incredulously. 
Cyrus saw that they doubted his plan. 

“We must do something! ” he exclaimed angrily. 
“ If you just try to do what other people have done 
and never strike out for yourselves, you’ll never 
succeed.” 

“Well,— go on!” Will said. 

“I think we might try to grow violets,” Cyrus 
said. “Clara tells me that they sell for five and ten 
cents a bunch in New York, and sometimes a bunch 
of fifty will even bring a quarter.” 

“More than that,” said Clara. “I saw a small 
bunch of double violets, — there were fifty in the 
bunch, — which cost a dollar! ” 

“If we could grow them,” Cyrus went on, “we 
could all have work, — even Sara and John could help 
to bunch them. The railroad almost passes our 
door. We could easily get them to New York. It 
would be hard at first with that old stove. There 
was a greenhouse near our place at home, but there 
was, too, a fine steam heater.” 

Will shook his head; Alice saw no hope in this 
plan; she had never known anybody in the florists’ 
business. Malcolm thought the matter over rapidly. 

“ I have heard of rose farms and violet farms,” he 
said, “ why shouldn’t we have a violet farm? There’s 
plenty of ground. What man has done, man can 
do.” 

“It would be nice,” said Clara, “if it could be 
done. And by Easter, when flowers are so much in 
demand, we might have lots of violets for sale.” 

Cyrus laughed and nodded. 

“But,” added Clara, “where shall we get the 


244 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

money to buy the plants. The Squire will have to 
get all we have, — even if he condescends to accept 
it.” 

Cyrus looked gloomy. 

“ Even if we should win the fifty dollars at the 
skating match, it must go to the Squire.” 

Clara’s words were true. There was a knot which 
nobody could untie. There was a sad pause. 

“I hold fast to St. Joseph,” said Malcolm cheer- 
fully. “ I hope you don’t think I mean to preach; I 
never was preachy, — and I don’t like long prayers; 
but I know St. Joseph is a good friend, and I think 
that by to-morrow he’ll show us the way.” 

Cyrus covered his face with his hands. “I’ll not 
give up,” he said, “but things do seem dark. We 
have the greenhouse; we have the stove; we have 
brains,” he looked at Alice, “and muscles; — we want 
a little money, and I don’t see how we can get it.” 

“Oh, dear,” said Alice, “here we are asking peo- 
ple to tea and all that, with destruction hanging over 
us!” 

“What matter?” said Will. “It is a good thing 
to make Mrs. Forsythe and her daughter feel that 
they have friends. We’ll give them one bright even- 
ing, at any rate.” 

They tried to be cheerful, but they did not suc- 
ceed. And, before he went to bed, Cyrus actually 
whispered a shy prayer that St. Joseph would ask 
God to give them what they needed ! 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


245 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

AROUND THE FIRE. 

M rs. FORSYTHE and Tillie came early. The 
young people had done their best to make the 
rooms look pretty. There were sweet-smelling cedar 
boughs and branches of pine in the vases and the fire 
glowed brightly. 

Tillie wore a pink ribbon at the throat of her 
brown dress. And her hair, which hung down in 
long plaits, was tied by other bows of pink ribbon. 
Mrs. Forsythe’s face had an air of trouble, but it was 
plain that she tried to conceal it. She smiled very 
sweetly and won Alice’s heart at once. 

“I have seen her before; — I must have seen her 
before ! ” she said to Clara, as the two girls arranged 
the cake and apples on the prettiest plates they had. 

“She looks troubled,’’ Clara said, “Tillie’s rather 
pert, but nice, — poor thing! Her frock is full of 
patches.’’ 

“ They must be very poor, Clara, — and lonely. 
Do you hear Tillie laughing with the children ? They 
are playing blind-man’s buff.” 

“Put this nice piece of cake on her plate,” said 
Clara. “ Do you know, Alice, I think there may be 
people who suffer more than we do! ” 

“My dear,” Alice said, as she put a big piece of 
cake with pink icing on it upon Tillie’s plate, “ we 
can’t suffer much while we are all together and under 
one roof. I wish it would last! — if the Squire will 
only let us alone, I am sure we shall get on.” 

Tillie seemed to become more kind and genial with 
Sara and John. She was shy with the others, but 


246 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

she was so merry that the little ones felt entirely at 
home with her. 

Will tried his best to be a good host. He remem- 
bered that his father had often told him that he must 
forget himself, that he must not talk too much, and 
that he must induce others to talk. And Will tried 
to comply with his father’s suggestion. A boy may 
be gentlemanly in his instincts; but, if he wants to 
be gentlemanly in habit, he must learn to think of 
others and to put himself last. He treated Tillie as 
if she were a grown-up lady, and this pleased her 
much. When tea was brought in, he served Mrs. 
Forsythe with a grace and deference that made her 
smile. 

“It makes me think of old times,” she said, “of 
old times in England when people were so very kind 
and young gentlemen handed me my tea.” 

“Will gives you the Belleek cup, too,” Sara said, 
“ the precious Irish cup with the pink thorn pattern 
upon it. We give that cup only to our friends.” 

Everybody laughed. It was evident that Sara had 
taken Tillie to her heart. 

“How bright Tillie looks!” said her mother, as 
she drank her tea from the dainty Belleek cup. 
“ Poor child ! she has not been used to so much kind- 
ness. She has had a hard time of late. We were 
not always so poor. Miss Badger.” 

“Oh, call me Alice; I’m not accustomed to being 
called ‘Miss.’ I don’t seem to be the same person 
when you call me ‘Miss.’ ” 

Sara was permitted to put two lumps of sugar into 
her new friend’s cup and to help her to the cream, 
and when the raspberry jam was served, she showed 
the greatest anxiety that Tillie should spread it 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 247 

thickly on her cake. John looked at these proceed- 
ings with great admiration, and upset his cup in try- 
ing to drink his tea without pouring it into his 
saucer. 

“Never mind,” Alice said, “even grown-up men 
sometimes spill their tea; and little men must be ex- 
cused, — when they meet with an accident,” 

John was consoled at once. Mrs. Forsythe ad- 
mired Alice’s gentleness; she had known sisters who 
would have frowned and scolded if their little brothers 
had done a similar thing. She wished that Tillie 
had Alice’s gentleness. 

The pleasant evening made her half forget the 
great sorrow on her mind. The children’s laughter 
was very pleasant to her. After tea, the rain was 
heard to come down on the roof “ in torrents,” as 
Malcolm said. The little group around the grate 
grew more cheerful; their present comfort was such 
a contrast to the cold and darkness without. 

“You must stay all night!” Clara said. Mrs. 
Forsythe hesitated. She had only a thin shawl and 
the rain actually fell in thuds upon the roof. 

“Well,” she said, with some timidity, “if you will 
keep us. Tillie has no rubber shoes, and I’m afraid 
her shoes are not altogether waterproof.” 

“We’re all poor together,” said Alice, “and we 
understand very well what it is to dread rain and bad 
weather.” 

“You can stay, Tillie! You can stay!” cried 
John. 

Tillie, who was making a cat’s cradle for Sara, 
nodded and smiled. 

“What a difference kindness makes in her!” 
thought her mother, who had often been worried by 


248 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

Tillie’s pert ways. “ And to think that I must leave 
her!” 

“If Tillie wants new shoes why doesn’t she pray 
for them?” asked John, turning up a pair of soles 
almost bran-new. “ That’s the way I got these at 
Christmas. They are my Sunday shoes!” he said 
proudly. 

Mrs. Forsythe sighed. 

“ I want so much ! ” 

“But God has everything, and St. Joseph knows 
just what we ought to have. You know he worked 
at carpentering. Didn’t you know that? I’ll tell 
you all about it some day. Alice told it to me a 
hundred times.” John thrust a handful of popped 
corn into Mrs. P'orsythe’s hands. “You just pick 
out the things you want and ask St. Joseph. I 
always do.” 

Mrs. Forsythe smiled, and then sighed. 

After a time Cyrus and Malcolm and Clara went 
off to play Little Red Riding Hood with the chil- 
dren. Sara was Little Red Riding Hood Tillie the 
Mother, John the Wolf, and Cyrus and Malcolm the 
two huntsmen that rescue Little Red Riding Hood 
just as the wicked animal, in the good old Grand- 
mother’s cap, says, “ the better to eat you up with, 
my dear! ” 

They enjoyed themselves very much. And Tillie’s 
shrill laugh could be heard above all the rest. Alice 
saw a tear fall on Mrs. Forsythe’s hand in the fire- 
light. 

“There will be no skating if this thaw continues,” 
Alice said, desiring to draw Mrs. Forsythe’s thoughts 
from sad themes. 

“You cannot depend on our climate,” said Will, 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 249 

“ The wind may change to-night, and then the skat- 
ing will be splendid. 

Alice noticed another tear fall on Mrs. Forsythe’s 
hand. She could not resist the impulse to take it in 
hers. 

“Can’t we help you, Mrs. Forsythe?’’ she asked 
in a low voice. 

“No, — nobody can help me. Nobody! I must 
leave my little girl here and go away to-morrow! ’’ 

“Leave Tillie!’’ exclaimed Alice in astonishment. 

“Yes. I am a widow. I know nobody in this 
country, — nobody. I had a sister here, but I have 
looked for her in vain. I can never forget your dear 
brother's kindness at the station when I arrived, 
almost penniless, half-starving, and very lonely. 
God will reward him! ’’ 

“It was nothing!” said Will, glad that he had 
been kind. 

“ It was a great deal to Tillie and me. I have a 
maiden aunt here in the village; I came to her when 
I could not find my sister. She is old, and — I dis- 
like to say it — not very warm-hearted. I hoped that 
she would let me stay with Tillie and keep house 
with her until some avenue of employment opened 
to me. She has let me stay a while; she will keep 
Tillie because Tillie is what she calls a ‘good 
worker,’ but she will not let her go to school. I 
must leave her to-morrow, to earn my living and 
hers. Oh, if I could only take her with me, I should 
be happy. But I have nowhere to go! If my aunt 
were gentle, I should not regret leaving Tillie here; 
but she has grown harsh in her ways, and it would 
break my heart to see Tillie grow like her. That is 
my trouble, dear children,” Mrs, Forsythe said, wip- 


250 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

ing her eyes. “ I love my little girl ; I would endure 
anything for her, but I must separate from her. But 
I must not make you sad.” 

Alice pressed Mrs. Forsythe’s hand between her 
own, and said nothing. 

“We have great trouble of our own,” Will said, 
“and we want your advice.” 

Mrs. Forsythe forgot her own grief. Will could 
have taken no surer means of brightening her. She 
was about to enjoy a luxury so long denied to her, 
— that of helping others. 

Alice knelt beside Mrs. Forsythe, and Will sat on 
the opposite side of the fire. At that moment life 
looked very dark to these three. They all felt that 
only God could help them. Alice and Will had the 
firmest belief that He would. 

Will told his story clearly, including his interview 
with the Squire. 

Mrs. Forsythe forgot her own troubles entirely. 

“ Cyrus Dodd is the nephew of the late owner of 
this house ? ” 

“Yes,” said Will. 

“Your father always paid the money to the Squire 
for Mr. Dodd ? ” 

“ I believe so.” 

Mrs. Forsythe was silent. 

“ Did Mr. Dodd leave a will ? ” 

“Cyrus does not know.” 

“ If he did,” said Alice, “ the Squire has it.” 

Mrs. Forsythe did not speak; she put her hand 
against her cheek and looked into the fire. 

The children did not give her a chance to speak. 
They rushed into the room. 

“ The old wolf is killed, — killed dead! ” cried Sara. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 25 1 

“ And 1 was a fierce wolf : I was very hard to 
kill. I scratched!” said John. 

“Wolves don’t scratch,” said Sara. 

“They do!” said John. 

“ They don’t.” 

_ “Children,” spoke Alice, in her soft voice, “you 
must not quarrel. \Vhen John plays the wolf and 
people want to kill him, he pretends to scratch.” 

“Oh, I did scratch for real!” said John. “And 
Sara screamed.” 

“ Not for real,” said Sara, “only make believe, — 
I’m hungry again.” 

Mrs. Forsythe smiled. 

“ I think I’ll make a Welsh rarebit for them,” she 
said ; “ my sister and I used to make it long ago in 
dear old Virginia. There’s a bright fire in the 
kitchen, and I know you have some cheese.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Alice, “ and plenty of red pepper.” 

“ I shall let the little people have just a small, 
small bit,” said Mrs. Forsythe; “much of it would 
not be wholesome at night.” 

“ A Welsh rabbit!” said John, in a disappointed 
voice. “ That is what Mrs. Ponsonby said she’d 
make for us. I thought it was a real rabbit! ” 

“ Mrs. Ponsonby is a dear friend of ours in Brook- 
lyn,” said Alice. “She loves the children and she 
has been kind to us. You must go to see her when 
you go to New York.” 

“I will,” Mrs. Forsythe said; she had tied on an 
apron, and even while Alice spoke she had become 
absorbed in the making of her favorite dish. 

There was no further chance to talk. The chil- 
dren had to be put to bed. 

“ I will see the Squire before I leave in the morn- 


2^2 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


ing,” Mrs. Forsythe said, “and maybe something 
will come of it.” 

She was off, bright and early; Tillie said good-by 
to her mother at the station, sobbing as if her heart 
would break. Mrs. Forsythe stopped at the Squire’s 
on her way, but he refused to talk with her. Tillie 
stopped to tell Will this. Alice had thoughtfully 
given Mrs. Forsythe the address of Mrs. Ponsonby, 
so that the poor woman might not be homeless. 

“No hope for us,” said Will, “the Squire will do 
his worst.” 

“Never mind!” exclaimed Clara. “Look at the 
bright side of things. There’s a lovely freeze to- 
day; the skating is good; we may win the prizes! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


BEFORE THE RA C E. 



HERE was a slight cloud over the household 


1 after the party. Tillie was kept in the house 
by her aunt, and when Sara and John went to call on 
her, she appeared only for a moment at the door. 
She kissed the little people and told them to run 


home. 


“ My aunt is very strict, and she doesn’t like visit- 
ors,” Tillie said. “Oh, I wish we could have a 
little game together !” 

At this moment a shrill voice was heard calling 
out, — 

“ You Tillie!” 

Tillie, apparently much frightened, ran into the 
house at once. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 253 

Sara and John went home making plans for the 
rescue of Tillie from the dragon, and so bold did 
John become in his own imagination that Sara ex- 
claimed out loud several times: 

“Oh, John, how brave you are! You are like 
Jack the Giantkiller! ” 

John swelled his chest out at this, and spoke of 
such pirate-like deeds that Sara almost trembled. 

No word came from Mrs. Fonsythe, although sev- 
eral days passed. 

Every night the young people talked of their plans. 
Cyrus was still enthusiastic about the violet house. 
His energy and activity were wonderful. He had 
contrived to put the old sashes together so that there 
was a very respectable greenhouse. He did not 
find it easy to solve the problem of heating the place. 

Malcolm became interested too. He recalled a 
visit he had made to a farm called Homedale near 
Madison, when the family had lived in New Jersey. 
It was a beautiful spot, managed by a woman, who 
made a good income by selling the violets she raised 
to the florists in New York. Malcolm’s father knew 
the woman and she had shown them her greenhouses 
and spoken of a plan for beginning a rose farm. 
Cyrus’ eyes sparkled at this. 

“ Oh, what a pleasure it would be to be able to 
raise flowers, — to do the work I like best of all! ’’ 

Malcolm laughed at his earnestness, but liked it, all 
the same. 

“ I learned two things from the lady at Homedale, 
— that the temperature of the greenhouse should be 
kept at about forty degrees and that violets after 
they have been cut should not be put near ice. I 
think, too, that she said that the double, fragrant 


254 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


kind was the best for selling purposes. I wish I had 
paid more attention,” 

“I wish you had,” said Cyrus eagerly, “How I 
wish I could see that violet farm! ” 

“In the mean time,” said Will, who was sitting in 
a corner, trying to make a wooden spoon for Alice, 
“ time flies. The Squire will soon turn us out, and 
away flies the angel of the violets! Oh, dear, we 
may as well give up ! — the more I think of that dread- 
ful old man, the more despondent I get.” 

It was a pleasant trait in the Badgers that when 
one of their party became “ blue ” the rest were sure 
to grow as hopeful as possible. 

“We’ll win yet! ” said Clara. “The skating race 
will give us enough to pay the Squire,” 

Will shook his head. 

“ What is the use of making us unhappy, Will ? ” 
Alice asked. “ Hope is all we have.” 

“ Hope and will ! ” said Cyrus. 

“Hope and Will!” said Clara. And everybody 
laughed. “ And when Will and hope separate, we 
feel as if we were lost! For my part, I intend to 
stay here as long as I can and learn to be a good 
housekeeper. Then I am going to the best school 
I can find! ” 

Cyrus looked at Clara in surprise. 

“ I want most of all to go to college. I want it 
bad; I want my father and mother to look down and 
to say of me, ‘There’s our boy, he is a good and 
learned man.’ I wish I could feel sure, — as sure as 
Clara does, — that I’d get what I most want!” 

“ If you want a thing bad enough and pray hard 
enough and work hard, you’ll get it,” said Clara 
decidedly. 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


255 


“ Everybody wants something, and everybody tries 
and hopes, but nobody gets it,” said Will dolefully. 
“There’s Mrs. Ponsonby, — she’d be happy if she 
could find her sister. She never will. There’s Mrs. 
Forsythe, — she’d be happy if she could stay with 
Tillie; she can’t. We’d be happy if we could keep 
together here; we can’t.” 

Sara had been listening; she crept up to Will and 
looked into his face. 

“God will give us what we need. Vou’ll see that 
He will, — John and I asked Him this morning. You 
just see if He don’t.” 

Alice kissed Sara, and Will patted her on the head. 

“I believe God knows best,” Will said. “But 
everything is so dark. Mrs. Forsythe could not do 
anything with the Squire, — that’s plain. All we 
have to build on is, it seems to me, the race, — and 
it’s foolish to expect to win the prize. Even if we 
pay off the mortgage, what can we do for a living? 
It’s all very well to talk about the violet farm; — but 
where can we get money to buy the plants? That’s 
what I want to know.” 

“Will,” spoke up Alice, “you will soon make us 
all as blue as yourself. I will hope. We mean well ; 
we want to do God’s will; we want to be good and 
to make the most of ourselves. Do you think that 
He won’t help us? I think He will! ” 

“We are going in for the race, anyhow!” called 
out John. “ And I am going to get a monkey screw 
and open Tillie’s house and fight with her aunt and 
take all the gold and jewels. When I grow up,” 
announced John, “ I am going to be a pirate.” 

“And I am going to be a piratess,” said Sara, 
with a smile, that showed all her little, white teeth. 


256 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


“Horrible!” said Clara. 

“Oh, Lmean to be good pirate,” said John. “I 
don’t see why you laugh,” he added in a tone of 
offence. 

Even Will had to smile. The talk now drifted to 
the subject of the races. Cyrus had sprained his 
ankle trying to adjust one of the sashes, and he could 
not take part in the contest. This disappointed him 
greatly. It deprived the Badgers of one chance. 

Clara laughed merrily. 

“Doesn’t it seem funny?” she asked, “to think 
of this family of Badgers, hated by a whole com- 
munity, making up its mind to take all the prizes! ” 
She laughed again. 

Malcolm laughed, too, long and hard. 

“These people will think we want the earth!” he 
said. “ We may perhaps get a little piece of it! ” 

“I wish I were as religious as you are,” Cyrus 
said gravely. “ Their religion and work are, I see, 
the only thing the poor have to depend on. We 
have all had good parents, and I remember some 
lines my father used to read out of the Bible: — ‘I 
am old that once was young, but never have I seen 
the children of the just deserted or begging their 
bread. ’ ” 

The conversation was becoming too serious for 
Clara. 

“ Everybody is to wear colors in the race, — I have 
some red, white, and blue ribbons in my trunk ; I 
shall wear them, — long streamers.” 

Alice did not skate well ; she would have liked to 
have a chance in the race, since girls were admitted. 

“ It wouldn’t be dignified for the house-mother,” 
she said, “ but it’s all right for a butterfly like Clara.” 


The badgers of belmont. 257 

Clara made a low courtesy. Then she ran upstairs, 
returning with a handful of ribbons. 

“I had to have them at the theatre. Aren’t they 
pretty ? ” 

There was a big knot of crimson and gold. 

“That’s for Tillie,’’ Clara said. “ She is a splen- 
did skater; I saw her on the pond the other day. 
Her aunt will probably have no ribbons, and these 
are beauties. This bow of blue and white is for 
Cyrus, if he’ll wear the Blessed Virgin’s colors, and 
this gold and blue is for Will.” 

“I’m afraid my ankle will not be well enough,” 
Cyrus said. ““But I’ll do what I can with witch- 
hazel. I know I shall not win the first prize with a 
stiff ankle. Malcolm’s the best skater I’ve ever 
seen; he’ll take it.” 

“Of course I will,” said Malcolm. “There is no 
false modesty about I suppose you intend the 

scarlet and black for me, do you ? ” 

“Yes, — it’s the biggest of the lot. Now look at 
my streamers! ” 

Clara let loose a half-dozen long streamers of the 
red, white, and blue ribbon. “ I’ll fasten them under 
my hat, and let them all out when I start. I’ll skate 
for the honor of the American flag. Clear the 
way ! ” 

“ Don’t you think you will seem very conspicu- 
ous?” asked Alice timidly. 

“The American flag can’t be too conspicuous! 
The red , — the white , — the blue !” 

John and Sara gave three cheers, and everybody 
joined while Clara, standing on a chair, waved her 
streamers. 


258 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

P 

On that same evening the Squire called to his 
colored servant, who was sweeping the hall. 

“ Is that Dodd boy about still ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well, — I’ve found out that I can, under the new 
law, turn those Badgers out sooner than I expected. 
The papers will be ready on next Tuesday; and you 
can take the constable and turn them out, bag and 
baggage!” said the Squire, rubbing his hands glee- 
fully. Tuesday would be the day after the race. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE RACE. 

T he sky was a lovely azure. The sun made a 
million points of iris-colored light on the thin 
coating of snow that covered the ground. It was 
one of those clear days without wind which makes 
everybody feel brighter and gayer and thank God 
for such a beautiful world. The Belmont lake was 
as smooth and clear as a mirror. 

The recent rain had turned to sleet and beaded the 
ice a little in some places, but the main track for the 
skaters — a mile in length — was as smooth and as 
clear as crystal. Every train on this Monday morn- 
ing was loaded with passengers. Stands had been 
erected on both sides of 'the lake, and the venders of 
hot coffee, fried sausages, pop-corn, dnd hot rolls did 
a thriving business. Flags of all colors were visible 
on the booths and stands, and the brass bands of 
Belmont, Jackson, Fre-eport, and Wilton had a big 
pavilion to themselves. They were in uniform, and 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


259 


the sun flashing upon their glittering instruments 
added a new effect of gayety to the scene. The 
smell of the roasted chestnuts and peanuts gave an 
agreeable flavor to the air, as Clara remarked. Will 
enjoyed the scene; as for Alice, she felt happy, in 
spite of her anxiety. Malcolm and Clara and Cyrus 
were in the highest spirits. Tillie approached them 
shyly, and Alice pinned the bow of crimson and gold 
in front of her dingy black hat. Her aunt, a tall, 
gaunt woman, stood on the bank, looking very grimly 
at the young people. The faithful Sara and John at 
once took possession of Tillie. 

Her bow was the biggest and gayest in sight; her 
eyes sparkled, as she slid up and down, with her lit- 
tle friends. She was very grateful for the gorgeous 
bow; for of late she had received little kindness. 
Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks reddened, as she 
returned the kindly glances of the Badgers. It is so 
nice to have friends! 

Alice, well-muffled up, was the centre of the group, 
which, adorned with the bright colors, was very 
noticeable. 

“Who are those bright-looking young people?” 
asked Mr. Warland, of Freeport. He stood next to 
the Squire on the grand central stand. 

The Squire turned his eye-glasses in the direction 
of the group. Tillie had put on her skates, and she, 
Clara, Cyrus, whose ankle was not so stiff. Will, and 
Malcolm, were doing a sort of war-dance around 
Alice, much to the delight of Sara and John. 

“ They make a pretty picture. The rainbow seems 
to have broken into pieces and fallen here. Look at 
the boy with the huge pink bows on his cap! And 
there is little Lillie Perkins, of Wilton, with at least 


26 o 


THE BADGERS OE BELMONT. 


five yards of green ribbon streaming after her. I 
declare,” said Mr. Warland, with a kind smile on his 
good-humored face, “ it was a good idea to insist on 
the competitors wearing colors; it makes this lake 
the prettiest picture I have ever seen! ” 

The Squire looked carefully at the group, and his 
lips tightened. He did not answer Mr. Warland’s 
question, but he resolved that not one of that group 
should enter the race. He noted the colors. Tillie 
had gone back to her aunt for a moment, Clara’s 
streamers were tucked under her hat, — those of Mal- 
colm, Cyrus, and Will were in full view. 

“ Ha! ” he said to himself, “I’ll fix you! ” 

Mr. Warland continued to admire Malcolm’s grace- 
ful turns and Clara’s swallow-like flights. They 
took hands and did a figure from a minuet they had 
learned at the theatre, to the music of the gavotte, 
“Stephanie,” which the Wilton band was playing. 
This was done entirely for the benefit of Alice and 
the children; but when they had finished, there 
sounded the clapping of hands from the shore of the 
lake; and Clara blushed as she looked up and found 
that she had helped to cause this. Malcolm took off 
his cap and made a low bow which nearly upset him. 

At a quarter to ten o’clock the chairman of all the 
committees stepped to the front of the stand and 
announced that the race would soon begin. One 
hundred and twenty-five young people, with gayly 
fluttering ribbons, pressed toward the stand. Any 
member of the committee had the privilege of object- 
ing to any two candidates. As a rule, this was never 
done. But if a person of notoriously bad character 
happened to present himself, an objection was some- 
times made. The skaters passed the turnstile, one 


THE BADGERS OE BELMONT. 261 

by one. Occasionally, Mr. Warland gave a nod or 
a smile to somebody he knew. The other members 
of the committee leaned over the low railing to shake 
hands with a friend here and there. 

The Squire’s face had a bitter look. It was the 
only face among the members of the platform which 
did not smile, the gay scene was so inspiring. A 
boy with a great yellow streamer preceded Will; he 
knew the Squire. 

“ How d’ye do, Dick ? ” the Squire said. 

Will had substituted a s])rig of box-wood for rib- 
bon ; it was his turn to pass the stand. The squire 
scowled. 

“Stop, young man!” he said in a harsh voice. 
“ You can’t pass! ” 

“Why not?” asked Mr. Warland, as Will paused, 
blushing furiously. 

“ He can’t pass, that’s all! ” said the Squire. “I 
object! ” 

“ He has a right to object,” said the postmaster at 
Belmont. “We can, each of us, refuse two candi- 
dates.” 

Will, with his head erect, turned away and skated 
to where Alice and the children stood. 

Tears stood in Alice’s eyes. 

“ Oh, Will ! ” She could say no more. 

“ I expected it,” said Will. “ I hope Malcolm will 
fare better. He’s our only hope. Cyrus runs some 
risk in going in at all, — and Clara hasn’t the ghost 
of a chance.” 

“So much depends on it! ” said Alice. The chil- 
dren silently took Will’s hands; they knew something 
had happened. 

The procession, with dazzling colors, went in. 


262 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Indian file, through the gate. There was no objec- 
tion made until Malcolm appeared. He took off his 
hat with a flourish of scarlet and black. 

“I object,” said the Squire. 

‘‘Why, sir?” asked Malcolm. 

“Don’t stop the way!” said the postmaster. 
“We’re losing time. The Squire objects, — that’s 
sufficient. He’s one of those new people, — Badger 
their name is, who live in old Dodd’s house.” 

Mr. Warland looked doubtful. He was president 
of the committees. 

“The boy looks like a good fellow,” he said. 
“ He ought to have his chance. I hear that there is 
some prejudice against these people because of their 
religion. It’s not right.” 

“I object! ” said the Squire decidedly. 

Malcolm skated away, without a word. All eyes 
were now turned to the group around Alice when 
Malcolm joined it; people pointed and whispered. 
The postmaster, who was a friend of the Squire’s, 
grinned. 

“The Squire isn’t mealy-mouthed, — when he hits, 
he hits hard.” 

“It seems to me,” said Mr. Warland, frowning, 
“ that the Squire is careful to hit people who can’t 
hit back.” 

The postmaster walked to the back of the plat- 
rform; he did not like Mr. Warland’s frown. Mal- 
, colm was thoroughly angry. 

“ Let us go home! ” Alice implored. 

“No,” said Malcolm, “we’ll stand our ground. 
We have nothing to be ashamed of! ” 

Will was silent. He saw that they were isolated ; 
the other people drew away from them. , He began 


rilE BADGE A’ S OF BELMONT. 


263 


a series of gyrations to relieve himself ; he cut pigeon 
wings; he almost flew over the ice; he caught Sara 
up and waltzed from one side of the lake to the other. 

“They shall see I don’t care! ’’ he said. 

The worst of it was that he did care, and he could 
not blind himself to that. He cared so much that 
his heart felt like lead. So much depended on this 
chance, and he had lost it! Not through his own 
fault, thank Heaven! That, at least, was some 
consolation. 

Tillie, brave in her crimson and gold, passed with- 
out objection. If a glance could have killed the 
Squire, Tillie’s eyes would have done it. Clara, too, 
was allowed to pass; the Squire was looking for her, 
but she had let out her red, white, and blue ribbons, 
which had been hidden when she danced the minuet, 
and he did not recognize her. When Cyrus’ blue 
and white rosette approached the gate. Will and Mal- 
colm got as near to the stand as they could. 

“I object!” called out the Squire. “That boy 
bears a vile character.” 

“ Another Badger ? ” asked Mr. Warland. “This 
ought to stop. You can’t object a third time.” 

“ Somebody object for me! ” exclaimed the Squire. 
“ That vagabond, — that tramp shall not enter the 
race! ” 

The bands had ceased playing; the air was still, 
and every word uttered by the Squire could be dis- 
tinctly heard. Cyrus felt as if he must sink into the 
ground. This gay scene seemed to him to have been 
made only to put him to shame. 

“Mr. Warland,” spoke up a shrill voice, “do not 
mind the Squire. Cyrus Dodd -is a kind, ^food 
boy.” 


264 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


It was Tillie, who, with blazing eyes, had got as 
near the stand as she could. 

“ Cyrus Dodd ? ” asked Mr. VVarland. “ Are you 
Cyrus Dodd ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Cyrus, as he was turning 
away to join Alice. 

“ He doesn’t look like a villain, gentlemen. There 
was a very respectable man of your name once in 
Belmont, — a little close in his dealings, — but a good, 
honest man.” 

“He was my uncle, sir,” said Cyrus. 

“ What ! ” Mr. Warland paused, and glanced keenly 
at Cyrus. “You don’t mean it! Why, Squire, you 
told me that Mr. Dodd had no relatives; you said 
you’d made careful inquiries.” 

“He’s an impostor!” said the Squire, fumbling 
with his eye-glasses. “Turn him out! ” 

“Go on, Mr. Dodd,” said Mr. Warland firmly. 
“There must be an end of this peevish conduct.” 

Cyrus joined Clara and Tillie. 

“I owe this to you,” he said to Tillie. “If you 
hadn’t spoken up, Td have been put out. Thank 
you! ” 

“ I don’t want thanks,” answered Tillie, “ I always 
speak up for a friend. And mother told me how 
much depends on your skating to-day. It’s too bad 
that that old Squire should have had his way about 
the others. I’m that mad! ” 

Clara looked anxious. 

“ It was very dear of you to get Cyrus in,” she said, 
“ but I’m afraid he’ll make his ankle worse.” 

“No,” Cyrus said, “it is in fairly good condition; 
I am not in my usual condition, but I can do some 
good work,” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


265 


The bugle sounded from the band stand. The 
candidates were directed to range themselves in a 
straight line. Mr. Warland read the rules to them. 
The great race was to take place first; the contes- 
tants were to skate three times over the course. 
After that there would be a grand quadrille by the 
eight best skaters. Then a march to the band music, 
and at half-past twelve dinner in the big tent erected 
by the railroad company. 

The bugle sounded again. The line was carefully 
reformed. Alice prayed with all her might that, if 
Cyrus should not get a prize, somebody in need 
might get it. John and Sara held their breath. 

Again the bugle sounded. There was a false start 
this time. People laughed as the skaters glided back 
to their places. There were about thirty girls in the 
line. Clara’s red, white, and blue ribbons, fluttering 
in all directions, were very plain to be seen. 

Another blast; — this time the start was real. The 
band of Belmont played a quickstep. Off they went. 
Will and Malcolm mounted the bank at its highest 
point. About a dozen separated from the rest and 
were seen in front. Cyrus was not of these; but 
Tillie and Clara were. The dozen kept together 
very well, the Wilton girl with the green bow being 
a little in advance. People craned their necks. A 
brown and yellow rosette suddenly went several yards 
ahead, but this distance was lost as they turned. In 
the turn, Clara scraped her skate against the rougher 
ice and lost a little. 

“Tillie’s first! Tillie’s first!” cried John, clap- 
ping his hands; and Tillie was first for a time on the 
home stretch. But she lost what she had gained, 
and the girl from Wilton came in first, amid cheers, 


266 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


while the Wilton band played “ The Wearing of the 
Green.” 

After some difficulty a start was made. It was 
announced that Tillie had come in second. Her 
aunt smiled at this. 

The bugle’s clear notes rang out. The eager 
skaters, only twenty-five in number — the rest having 
dropped out — began again. The girl from Wilton 
kept up her pace until they reached the turn. Cyrus 
made a spurt and a crimson streamer worn by a Free- 
port boy, who was an excellent skater, went with 
him, side by side, in advance of the others. All the 
girls fell behind. The postmaster’s son, wearing a 
purple ribbon, shot ahead. 

“ Blue and white! ” called the crowd. “ Blue and 
white’s ahead! ” 

The Squire shook with anger. 

“I wish he’d fall dead! ” he muttered. 

“ Blue and white! ” 

The shout changed. 

“Purple! Purple!” 

“ Crimson ! Crimson ! ” 

Crimson seemed to be having it all his own way 
when Clara and Tillie slid up to the goal, nearly side 
by side, with Cyrus third. 

Alice’s face brightened; and Will and Malcolm 
rasped their throats with cheers. Tillie was evi- 
dently the favorite. The girl with the green bow 
came next. Only ten remained in the contest. 
Purple declared that he would beat the next by 
half a mile. He was certainly a good skater, 
and as fresh as when he had started. Crimson 
laughed. 

“ The girls are not in it — in fact, thqre’s no use 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 267 

skating against me in the last course; there’s where 
my science comes in! ” 

Cyrus felt better than when he had begun; his 
ankle had, as he expressed it, “limbered up.” 

There were three girls and seven boys. The girls 
seemed to be less tired. The boys skated well, but 
they evidently had never learned to breathe; they 
were all strong, yet Tillie and Clara and the girl in 
green breathed more easily. 

The bugle’s blast rang out. Off the ten flew. 
Mr. Warland placed the prizes on the little table 
before him. 

“Green! Green!” called the crowd on the left 
bank. 

“ Keep off the ice! Keep off the ice! It will not 
hold so many,” cried out the policemen. 

“ Green ! Green ! ” was everywhere echoed. 

Alice covered her eyes with her hands; and Mal- 
colm gave Will a look of the bitterest disappointment. 

“Wait till they turn! ” said Will, scarcely breath- 
ing. “ They’ve turned ! It’s crimson ! ” 

“ Crimson ! ” 

“No — crimson and gold! Crimson and gold! 
The girl has it ! ” 

Green had fallen back to the fourth place and 
then to the sixth. Purple was second with crimson 
and gold, when Cyrus came ahead for an instant, 
but Tillie slid before him. Clara kept her place, 
fifth, for some time after they turned. 

Purple passed them all and green followed, when 
suddenly Clara, with a motion like a swallow, flew 
ahead, Tillie followed her, purple was third. The 
excitement was intense. This was the first time 
girls had been admitted to the race — all the girls 


268 THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 

cheered as loudly as they could. Alice dared not 
look ; her heart beat very fast. She heard the band 
strike up the “ Red, White, and Blue,” and the crowd 
take up the chorus with their voices: 

“ Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue, 

Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue ! ’’ 

She heard Will and Malcolm join in, and she knew 
what had happened — Clara had come in first. She 
saw John and Sara dancing frantically, and she heard 
Mr. Warland’s loud announcement: 

“Miss Clara Badger, first prize; Miss Matilda 
Forsythe, second;” the Squire peevishly interrupted 
him, “ Mr. Cyrus Dodd, third, and Miss Perkins, 
fourth.” 

The crowd cheered. The prize winners thanked 
Mr. Warland as he gave them their steel-linked 
purses, and Miss Perkins seemed glad to have the 
enormous turkey, trimmed with paper flowers, carried 
to her mother, who was all smiles. 

Tillie’s thin face was flushed with pleasure. She 
kissed Sara and John and Clara, and told her aunt 
that Mr. Warland had given her two free tickets for 
the dinner, at which the grim aunt smiled again. 
Then she and Cyrus and Clara ran off to take their 
places in the quadrille. 

“Wait,” the Squire said, wait till to-morrow!" 


THE BADGERS OF BELMOHT. 


269 


CHAPTER XXI. 

''OUT YOU GO I" 

T he Squire lay awake nearly the whole night after 
the race. His conscience did not reproach him, 
for he had become so accustomed to evil-doing that 
he had forgotten he had a conscience. But he was 
alarmed because Mr. Warland had met Cyrus Dodd. 

The truth was this: the Squire had been old Mr, 
Dodd’s agent. And when the miser had died, he 
had pretended to look for his relatives, knowing well 
that there was a nephew in the West. He flattered 
himself that this boy was ignorant and friendless, 
and he believed that he could keep all the Dodd 
estate without anybody’s being the wiser. 

The meeting on the ice made him frantic with 
rage; he felt that he must get rid of Cyrus at once. 
If the boy were out of the way, he could tell Mr. 
Warland that he lied, — that there were no heirs to 
the estate of old Mr. Dodd. The Squire had no 
scruples; he had ceased to love God ; he loved only 
money. 

As early as possible he went, accompanied by the 
village constable, to call on the Badgers. They 
were at breakfast. The children ran to open the 
door for the visitors. 

“Nice little ones!” the constable said. “You’ll 
be easy on them. Squire. That Badger girl showed 
great pluck yesterday! ” 

“Easy with them!” muttered the Squire. “I’ll 
drive them out of Belmont by to-night! They’re 
vipers, — that’s how I’ll treat them.” 

Will saluted his visitors politely. Alice, her face 


270 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


full of anxiety, entered the parlor wilh him. The 
Squire refused to take a chair; the constable was 
more polite. 

“ I came to say that I have found that your pay- 
ment on the mortgage is long overdue. Isn’t that 
so?” 

The constable nodded his head. 

“I don’t want to waste words,” continued the 
Squire. “ I have the power of turning you out of this 
house, bag and baggage, to-day; — and I am going 
to use it.” 

Alice caught at Will’s arm; it seemed to her as if 
the room were whirling around her. Will supported 
her. 

“ Is this true, sir ? ” he asked, turning to the con- 
stable. 

The constable nodded. “I’m sorry to say it is. 
I don’t know how the Squire has managed, — but 
he’s got you somehow. I’m no lawyer and he is.” 

“You’ve harbored that Dodd boy, in spite of me, 
and you’ve got to take the consequences! ” 

“ We will continue to give him a home as long as 
we have one,” said Alice, recovering herself. 

John and Sara had crept in from the hall. 

“Are you going to turn us out?” John said, look- 
ing into the face of the constable. “ Don’t do it, — 
you seem like a good man.” 

“ You can’t,” said Sara bravely. “ God won’t let 
you. You needn’t try.” 

The constable’s eyes were moist, for he had little 
children of his own. 

“Come, Squire,” he said, “let up. Fix it some- 
how.” 

The Squire simply tightened his lips. 


rilE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


271 


Alice put her pocket-book down on the table. 

“You will find there, sir,” she said, “one hundred 
and seventy-five dollars. If you’ll only wait ” 

“ Not a minute! ” said the Squire. 

“Can he really turn us out?” 

“Yes,” said the constable, “unless you pay the 
two hundred dollars to-day ; he has a special contract 
of forfeiture with your father. I’m no lawyer, so I 
don’t understand. If you don’t pay the money by 
twelve o’clock, noon, — out you must go!” 

A knock sounded at the front door. Cyrus opened 
it, and Tillie’s voice was heard in the next room. 

“ Give us a week! ” pleaded Alice. 

“Not an hour! I refuse your money. Give me 
the whole two hundred dollars or nothing. Perhaps 
if you’d turn Cyrus Dodd out, — drive the beggar 
away, I’d give you a month ” 

He was interrupted. Cyrus entered the room. 

“I heard my name, sir,” he said, “and I thought 
that I’d come in. What have you to say against 
me ? ” 

“You heard the word ‘beggar,’” sneered the 
Squire; “I suppose you recognized your name.” 

Cyrus clenched his fists. 

“I was taught to reverence old age, sir,” he said. 
“ I can’t answer you. There is nothing true that 
you or anybody else can speak against me.” 

“ I want you to get out of my house at once,” said 
the Squire. “ I want you to leave this place, — and 
I’ll force you to do it! ” 

“ Try it! ” said Cyrus. “This is not your house. 
As long as my friends here want me, I shall stay. I 
mean that, sir. This was once my uncle’s house; it 
is now theirs.” 


272 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


The Squire laughed; the constable looked much 
ashamed. 

“It is fny house,” said the Squire. “I had a 
special contract with Mr. Badger, which I found the 
other day, — you can call it a flaw in the agreement, 
— a mistake in the mortgage, — what you will; — but 
out you go! ” 

Cyrus turned to Will, as if thunderstruck. 

“ Is it true ? ” 

“ He says so,” said Will. 

“God help us!” murmured Alice.. 

“ I will go away,” Cyrus said, “ and earn the rest of 
the money.” 

“ Can you earn twenty-five dollars in less than an 
hour?” sneered the Squire. “ I must have two hun- 
dred dollars down, — now, — sharp; — two hundred dol- 
lars, — mind! — or I turn you all out. If you were to 
go for good, it might make a difference! ” 

“I will go!” said Cyrus. “I must go, to save 
you, Alice. I’ll go this moment! ” 

The Squire’s eyes lighted up. 

“ No, no! ” said Alice. “ This man only deceives 
us. We will never buy a short respite, — never! ” 

Cyrus had watched the Squire’s face closely. He 
wondered why he should have seemed so greatly 
pleased with the thought of his going. 

“I will go. Squire,” said Cyrus quietly, “but I’ll 
see Mr. Warland first.” 

The blow struck home; the Squire’s face became a 
picture of fury. 

“The two hundred dollars at once!” he said. 
“Mr. Warland’s in New York, you beggar! — you 
tramp! The two hundred dollars! — or out you go! 
Constable, do your duty ! ” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 273 

The constable, still looking ashamed, rose to his 
feet. 

“There’s no use talking to the Squire,” he said, 
“ No use!” 

The Squire repeated, — 

“Two hundred dollars, or ” 

“Here it is,” said a high voice, as Tillie entered 
the room. She put three new notes on the table be- 
side the pocket-book. “ That makes two hundred. 
It’s the money I won yesterday. My mother will 
not object to your getting it. Squire. You’re wel- 
come, I’m sure ! ” 

The Squire glared at her like a conquered lion; 
but Tillie did not seem to care. She opened the 
pocket-book and counted out the money, to which 
she added her own twenty-five dollars. 

“Give her a receipt. Squire,” said the constable, 
grinning. “ The mortgage is about satisfied ; — you 
can’t bother them any more! ” 

“ I told you God wouldn’t let you do it,” said Sara. 

“ How good He is! ” murmured Alice. 

The Squire went to the door, pale and trembling. 

“You must take the money and sign the receipt, 
sir,” said the constable. 

The Squire put his name to a printed form, the 
blanks in which the constable filled out with his 
fountain pen, 

“Glad to give it to you, Mr. Badger,” the con- 
stable said, handing it to Will. 

“ Thank you ! ” Will said. The constable stooped, 
kissed the children, and went out apparently in a 
very good humor. The Squire, saying nothing, fol- 
lowed him. 

Clara and Alice kissed Tillie, and then the three 

18 


274 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


girls sat down and sobbed as if their hearts would 
break. 

“Why ain’t they glad?’’ asked John, bewildered. 

Sara looked at the weeping group, bewildered, too. 

“Oh,’’ she said at last, “when you’re very happy, 
you cry if you’re a girl.’’ And she put her apron to 
her eyes. “ Boys are not expected to have feel- 
ings! ’’ 

Tillie dried her eyes, and actually beamed on the 
girls; the boys went silently to their work. 

“I couldn’t come last night,’’ she said; “aunt 
wouldn’t let me. I told her what I intended to do 
with the money. She said that I was a fool. But 
as long as mother would be pleased I didn’t mind 
that, — so I ran over as soon as I washed the break- 
fast dishes. And I was just in time. Isn’t it 
lovely?’’ and Tillie laughed gayly, and hugged the 
girls again. “Aunt doesn’t mind much, because I 
said that I’d get the money back by coming over 
here every day for a year and getting my breakfast 
and dinner. She said that it would be all right, if I 
could board it out and save her food! ’’ 

Alice and Clara forgot their tears and laughed 
outright. 

“You are welcome to live here!’’ said Alice. 
“You dear, good child!’’ 

“Oh, I am so happy!’’ Tillie said. “I feel that 
I have been of some use in the world. I want to be 
good, — teach me, Alice!’’ 

Alice smiled; Tillie had made a loyal friend. 

“ If rnother could only be with us! ’’ she said, after 
a pause. “We could all work together! ’’ 

“ She will come! ’’ said Sara, “ if you pray! I’ve 
prayed.’’ 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


375 


“Why, there she is!” cried John, running to the 
door. “And who do you think is with her? — our 
Mrs. Ponsonby!” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE END. 



HERE was no doubt of it. Mrs. Forsythe and 


1 Mrs. Ponsonby had turned into the path that 
led to the house. John and Sara rushed into Mrs. 
Ponsonby ’s arms; she seemed delighted to see them 


again. 


“ I am so happy,” she said. “ Now God may take 
me as soon as He likes. This is my dear sister, — 
the lost one,” she said, as Alice and Clara kissed her. 
Mrs. Forsythe looked ten years younger; her face 
glowed with contentment. 

“It is all your work,” she said, smiling at Alice 
and clasping Tillie in her arms. “ God put it into 
your good heart to send me to Mrs. Ponsonby; 


and 


“ She climbed my stairs on a rainy day. I thought 
Clara had come back, as I saw the figure in the 
hall,” said Mrs. Ponsonby. “She was worn out, 
almost hopeless, dripping with rain. As she came 
into my room and the light from the window fell on 
her face, my heart almost ceased to beat, — and then 
I knew that our dear Lord had sent the lost one to 
my door.” 

“ I could not believe it at first. Oh, how soon 
that dreary hopeless day was turned to the happiest 
of my life,” said Mrs. Forsythe. “And, Tillie, we 


276 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


are not to be separated. I have seen a lawyer in 
New York, and he tells me that I am rich. I have 
signed half the estate over to my sister, — she was 
wrongfully deprived of it because of her religion. 
You need not be afraid of the Squire now! ” 

“We are not,” said Tillie, laughing through her 
tears. 

“My sister,” Mrs. Ponsonby said, speaking to 
Alice, “ has placed me above the consideration of the 
small economies. I can help you now.” 

“ We must work for what we get, dear Mrs. Pon- 
sonby,” said Alice.. 

“I intend to live with you, dear — don’t be afraid; 
I shall not expect you to be dependent; but I can 
help you a little sometimes, — the chief good of 
money is to assist — to help those we love.” 

Sara had darted out to tell the boys. They came 
in, amazed and delighted. Will introduced Cyrus, 
and the happy story was told to them. 

They had much to tell, too; and Mrs. Ponsonby 
glanced sympathetically at Cyrus while the story 
was told. 

“You shall be one of my boys, too,” she said. 
“You shall work for what you get — don’t be afraid. 
But you’ll be paid good wages. I’ll start the violet 
farm for you; and, if you succeed, a rose farm. 
There’s a good school kept by the Sisters at the next 
station; Sara and John and. Clara can go there every 
morning, — it’s ten minutes’ ride. Tillie must go, too, 
— if her mother doesn’t object, — though it is a Cath- 
olic school.” 

Tillie’s eyes brightened. 

“ Oh, no,” said her mother, “ I would like Tillie to 
be a Catholic,” 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 277 

Cyrus looked at Will. 

“Cyrus wants to be a priest,” said Will, smiling. 

Cyrus reddened. 

“I would like to belong to your Church; — and, as 
I can’t be a minister there, perhaps I might be a 
priest.” 

“I prayed,” whispered Sara to John. 

“And so did I,” answered John. 

“You shall go to college,” said Mrs. Forsythe, “I 
will see to that ; — but first we must enlarge this old 
house, as my sister has suggested, so that we can be 
a happy family. Oh, I have always wanted a home! ” 

“You have one now,” said Alice. 

The happy talk went on until the afternoon. What 
plans they made! Surely no people were ever so 
cheerful! The clouds had gone at once. If sorrows 
come in crowds, so do joys. Clara was the most 
boisterous of them all. She sang and danced and 
invented rhymes until Cyrus declared that she had 
gone mad. Tillie brought her clothes from the house 
of her aunt, — who was not sorry to get rid of her, — ■ 
and took up her abode with the Badgers. 

The Squire went away that night. He took his 
bonds and papers with him. It was found, on ex- 
amination, that he had cheated many people, and his 
property was so much involved that nobody could get 
what belonged to him. 

Cyrus laughed when Mr. Warland told him this. 

“I don’t care,” he said; “I’ve two strong arms 
and a head I intend to fill, and a home and good 
friends! That’s all I want now! ” 

Mr. Warland smiled. 

“You’re a man in heart,” he said. “ That’s the 
way to feel, Cyrus.” 


278 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


Mrs. Ponsonby bought an interest in the vioi^c 
farm; — that is, it was stocked through her kindness 
and the green-houses improved. At Easter, some 
thousands of double violets were sold at good prices. 
Clara and Tillie and John and Sara rode to school 
every day and made progress, — Clara shining in her 
musical studies. 

There is a pretty church near the railroad now; 
you can see its gilded cross from the cars as you near 
Belmont. Beside it is a house, — with trim hedges 
and fruit trees, and near the house a school. Mrs. 
Ponsonby and Mrs. Forsythe erected these in thanks- 
giving. 

Mrs. Forsythe is very fond of John and Sara; she 
thinks their prayers helped her very much. Tillie, 
charmed by Alice’s example, has become very refined 
and gentle. Will and Alice manage the violet 
farm, and they have made it pay so well that they 
will start a rose farm next year. Mrs. Forsythe in- 
sists that Tillie shall prepare herself to work. As 
yet, Tillie has chosen no profession. Clara has 
determined to be a music teacher. Cyrus has gone 
to college, but he comes home every Saturday; he 
hopes that he may one day be pastor of the little 
church; it is only a hope yet, — but Sara and John 
are praying for it. 

“ If,” Tillie often says, “Will had not been so kind 
to us at the station, how different everything would 
be!” 

“You may as well say, ’’Cyrus sometimes answers, 
“ that if God were not so good, we should not be so 
happy. As long as we pray and do our best. He 
makes things go right! ” 

The people in the old house at Belrnont believe in 


THE BADGERS OF BELMONT. 


279 


work ; there is no drone among them. But at night 
you hear music and talk and laughter, and you know 
that honest work makes light hearts. 

Malcolm is preparing to be a journalist; he will 
begin to publish a paper in Belmont in January next. 
He is content; there is no name more respected in 
Belmont than his, “though it isn’t a pretty name,” 
he says. Here is his last poem, written for the 
“break-up” of the Belmont school, which was cele- 
brated with much ceremony in June: 


“ Violets fade and roses go; 

Storm-clouds fall and so does rain; 
Frost has passed and so has snow: 

So will pass all woe and pain. 

“ Good-by, children; school is done, 
Only to begin again ; 

So at evening sinks the sun, 

Bringing rest to tired men. 

‘ Every story has its end 
Only to begin in life. 

If we let its lesson tend 

To teach us love amid life’s strife.” 


THE END. 


[Printed by Benziger Brothers, New YorkJ 





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4 BENZIOER BROTHERS’ STANDARD CATIIOLTC BOOKS. 


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Francis de Sales, St. 

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God Knowable and Known. By Rev. Maurice Ronayne, S.J. 

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BENZIGER BROTHERS' STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 5 


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History of the Catholic Church within the Limits of the United 
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Vol. 11 . Life and Times of Archbishop Carroll. 

Vol. HI. From the Division of the Diocese of Baltimore to the 
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History of the Catholic Church, by Dr. II. Brueck, with 
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History of the Catholic Church. Adapted from the original of 
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r, BENZIGER BROTHERS' STANDARD GATUOLIG BOOKS. 


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Vols. I, 2. The Christian State of Life. 

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BEXZTGER BROTHERS* STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 7 


Life and Acts of Leo XIII. Preceded by a sketch of the Last 
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Life of Father Jogues, Missionary Priest of the Society of Jesus. 
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Life of St. Aloysius Gonzaga. From the Italian of Rev. Father 
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Life of St. Francis di Geronimo of the Society of Jesus, 
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8 BENZIGER BROTHERS’ STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 


Life of Right Rev. John N. Neumann, D.D., Fourth Bishop of 
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Liguori, St. Alphonsus de. Complete Ascetical Works of. 

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Lourdes. Its inhabitants, Its Pilgrims, Its Miracles. By R. F. Clarke, 
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BENZIGER BROTHERS’ STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 9 


Manifestation of Conscience. Confessions and Communions in 
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Martyr, A, of. Our Own Times. Life of Rev. Just de Breten- 
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McCallen, Rev. James A., S.S. 

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Meditations, New Practical, for Every Day In the Year, on the Life 
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Meditations on the Sufferings of Jesus Christ. From the 
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same Order. i2mo, cloth, 25 


10 liEKZIOEn BROTHERS' STANDARD GATIIOLIC BOOKS. 


Merrick, Rev. D. A., S.J. 

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Monk’s Pardon. A Historical Romance of the Time of Philip IV. of 
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Muller, Rev. Michael, C.SS.R. 


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BENZIOER BROTHERS' STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 11 


My First Communion: The Happiest Day of My Life. A Prep- 
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O’Grady, Eleanor. 

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Path which led a Protestant Lawyer to the Catholic 

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12 BENZIOER BROTHERS' STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 


Philosophy, English Manuals of Catholic. 


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Pictorial Lives of the Saints. With Reflections for Every Day in 
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BENZTGER BROTHERS' STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 13 


Russo, N., 3 .J. — De Philosophia Morali Praelectiones in Collegio 
Georgiopolitano Soc. Jes. Anno 1889-90 Habitae, a Patre Nicolao 
Russo. Editio altera. 8vo, half leather, net, $2 00 

Sacramentals of the Holy Catholic Church, The. By Rev. 
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Sacred Heart, Books on the. 

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14 BENZIGER BROTHERS’ STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 


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BENZIGER BROTHERS’ STANDARD CATHOLIC BOOKS. 15 


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a-is? 48 


16 BENZIGER BROTHERS' STANDARH CATHOLIC BOOKS. 


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